Strength of the Wolf
by Shadedrow
Summary: The strength of the wolf is the pack, and the strength of the pack the wolf. will they learn this in time to save each other?  mage female hawke and fenris
1. Chapter 1

bioware owns anything you recognize.

"I cannot stop thinking of you. In fact, I can think of little else. I... Command me to leave, and I shall." Fenris shuffled his feet, not daring to look up at Hawke's face, waiting for the inevitable rejection.

"Notice me not saying anything" she spoke gently, and a delicate fingered hand reached into his field of vision, brushing against his cheek long enough to bring his gaze upwards. Those pale golden eyes, wolf eyes, skimmed over him with a curious expression, as if he was something she had never seen before. He swallowed hard, then let his eyes meet hers, tentatively reached out a gauntleted hand to the black tattoo across her cheek. Her eyes softened, and she pressed into his touch, almost nuzzling his lyrium branded palm. The former tevinter slave stepped closer, and pressed his lips to hers. Somewhere in the breathless fever that followed, he found himself with his back against the wall, her arms braced to either side of his neck, his fingers digging into the soft blood auburn of her hair. And still they kissed, like drowning souls desperate for salvation.

Finally they separated, foreheads pressed tight as they gasped for air. "Fenris... " she whispered, then gasped as he pressed his lips to the pulse point in the wrist so conveniently near his face. " we should go upstairs." She kissed the tip of one pointed ear, watched his dark green eyes flutter. "To my room. Before mother or Bodahn come home and find us in the entry way."

"True." Fenris pushed forward, kissing her deeply again, before allowing her to lead him up the stairs. Amidst, between, and around, more breath stealing kisses, her robes and the top half of his armor hit the floor. The white haired elf sat on the edge of the plush bed, a length of the crimson silk that belted her favorite black robes tangled around his gauntlets as he carefully removed the enchanted metal.

"Wow." She breathed, staring at the maze of swirling lyrium channels and the muscled flesh they were embedded in. "How far do they go?" she asked, eyeing an arching vine that ran along his wiry abdomen, vanishing under the black leather of his leggings.

Fenris pulled back, dropping his gaze and staring at the quiescent blue white lines that had cost him so much pain. "Hawke." He said quietly, his tone somewhere between pleading and warning.

"Lupa." She responded, sitting distractingly unclothed next to him on the bed, her skin porcelain pale next to the black lace of her smallclothes.

"What?" He looked up at her, blinking in confusion.

"It's my first name. Which if we're going to do this, I'd prefer you use. Lupa" She moved a little closer to him on the bed, eyeing his taut muscled torso. "You're whipcord and bone under that armor." She whispered, shaking her head. She started to reach out to the exposed pattern of lyrium brands, and then stopped. "May I?" she asked of the lanky elf now staring at her with a disconcerted look in those malachite green eyes.

"She-wolf?" he asked, almost dryly, seeming to ignore her outstretched hand. "That explains what you named the dog."

"At least you don't translate it the way my brother did whenever I annoyed him especially. That's a bonus." She carefully ran her fingers over the marks on his neck and chin. "Does that hurt or…?"

"Not as such", he responded, torn between flinching back from the unfamiliar sensation of skin to skin contact and enjoying the soft warmth of her hands. Enjoyment slowly won as her hands slid over his shoulders, following the metal patterns and the curves of his muscles.

"Does this?" she asked, a small glimmer of healing magic flickering blue around her fingers as she traced the swirls across his chest. He groaned sharply, and then grabbed her hand when she would have pulled back.

"Not pain… I amnot used to… Don't stop. Please." His earnest gaze sought her face from under the concealing fall of his roughly cut white hair, seeing the look of concern in those golden eyes. "Venhedis" he muttered, then pulled her close, entangling them back in one of those soul burning kisses. She smiled against his lips, then splayed her fingers outward against his chest, and more blue magic spilled across his torso. He could feel it sinking into the brands and the surrounding flesh, soothing lingering aches he had almost forgotten remained, easing the tightness of old scars tissue. It ran along his skin like painless lightning, thrilling across all his nerves, like the stormy magic taste of her mouth, reminding him of the ache that had driven him to her door.

Fenris pulled back from Lupa's mouth, seeking air, and a line of liquid, magic soaked heat ran across the brands under his chin. He shuddered, eyes closing, and she licked a line across his collar bone, pressed her lips to the veins in his throat. Opening his eyes again, he pushed her back against the corner column that supported the canopied drapes of her bed, his hands gliding over her curves, under her breast band. Where the lyrium brands on his palms and fingers touched her bare skin, he could feel the magic that shimmered just under the surface, could feel it reacting with the mystical metal burned into his flesh. It was like fire and ice, lightning sparks without a trace of the pain he had learned to expect from his former master's magic. It was like a storm trying to build inside his body and soul, arcing thru every fiber of his being, it was desire and need and a new hunger wrapped tightly together and coiled in the pit of his stomach. And he wanted more.

With a growl, he claimed her mouth again, as the fragile fabric of her smallclothes tore away with the sudden clench of his fingers. He traced the curves of her chest, wondering at the softness of her skin under his scarred, sword calloused hands.

Lupa moaned, almost whimpering with need as his hands covered her breasts. She could feel the lyrium humming as it came into contact with her magic, feel her power reacting with the living metal in his skin. It was enthralling, deliriously energizing, like being in the center of a gathering storm, and those deep green eyes never wandered from hers, watching her with an single-minded intensity she found nearly as intoxicating as the lyrium taste of his mouth, of his skin. Metallic sweet lyrium and saltsweat, and something else entirely him, something male and feral, subtly dangerous and hintingly familiar. His mouth slid from hers, down her jaw, her neck, as his hands caressed, the lyrium marks beginning to glow softly. His thumbs found her nipples, and her head fell back, mewling as she fought to keep enough focus to keep the core of her magic mostly restrained, to keep a semblance of control. Fenris shifted downward, his lips and tongue replacing his fingers, and loose power swirled to her skin, chasing the lines his fingers and mouth traced.

"You taste like lightning. Like wild places and freedom" He murmured, in a bemused, almost pleasure drugged tone, nuzzling her breasts. His hands slid to her hips, slowly, as if still waiting for rejection. His marks gleamed brighter, flickering blue under his skin. "Lupa," he whispered, licking along the underside of her breast, one finger at the lacy edge of her panties. She arched into him, her fingers carding through the choppy lines of his lyrium bleached hair, and the lacy fabric ripped away as swiftly as her breast band. His hands slid downward, thru the short downy fuzz that covered her mound. One finger slid across her, and her magic poured to the surface again.

Fenris kissed his way down her body, licking along her soft curves, as his fingers parted her, caressing the silken flesh within. She arched into him again, mewling as he found her small nub, rubbing it gently. He hesitated, only to find her hand on his wrist. "You're doing wonderfully. Please, don't stop."

Emboldened, he continued, her juices soaking his fingers. Her magic flooded to the surface, swimming thru his brands. One long finger slipped inside, then another, as he licked the curve of her hips, kissed the soft skin of her inner thigh, as he slid off the bed to get a better angle. His fingers flexed, then withdrew, bracing against her thighs, pushing them wider. And then his mouth found her, his hands keeping her hips flat to the bed as he covered the line of her in long deliberate licks, each swipe delving deeper. Lupa swore something strangled, breathless, and incoherent involving his name and the Maker's, her fingers digging into the velvet top of the quilt. He grinned briefly up at her, then suckled at the nub that made her make such delectable noises. This time he could feel her spasming under his mouth, taste both her and the magic that washed over him, drumming at his senses.

He rose, cupping her face back in his scarred hands to pull her into another kiss. She could taste herself mixed into the lyrium taste of him, and reached for the thin belt at his waist. With a quick flick, she had it undone, shoving the black leather of his pants back over his narrow hips. He pulled back to step out of the leggings, and she froze. The lines of lyrium continued everywhere, swirled down over his hips, vining down his thigh, spiraled over the length of his erect member. Her hands reached out, skimming over his skin with more focused healing energy. " You really do have those brands everywhere. What kind of monster was your magister?" She whispered, one hand sliding back up to his cheek, "I am so sorry."

"I do not need your pity," he snarled, his brands flaring brighter as he pushed at her, shoving her back at the bed. Her magic pulsed under his hands, and she tugged him down on top of her.

"Then I won't give it. Take me instead." She murmured, pressing her lips to his, her hands sliding over his shoulders. He caught her wrists, pinning them above her head.

"My Lupa," he growled, in a softer tone, and leaned down to plunder her mouth as he settled himself above her, and plunged himself deep. A shudder ran along his spine as he felt her surrounding him, like a hot silken vise, tasted the stormy magic of her mouth, sensed her magic flare as his brands pulsed. "Festis bei umo canavarum," he muttered as she moaned into his mouth, rolling her hips up into him. He pulled back slowly, watching those golden wolf eyes, pleasure dazed, try to focus on him. "You will be the death of me. " He thrust back, finding a rhythm in the melding flux that pulsed, magic and lyrium, in the quickening tempo of her panting breaths and his heartbeat. He slid deep, the rhythm growing erratic, and she went over, whimpering his name as she clenched around him, pulling him over the edge with her. They sprawled together, Fenris moving just far enough to pull out and curl around her. "My Lupa," he whispered, one hand stroking her hair as his markings dimmed and they drifted into sleep.

His dreams were strange, full of things he did not know and people he did not recognize. Or rather should recognize, were it not for the ritual that burned away his memories. The towers of Minrathous stood tall in the distance, and a red haired elven girl called him from across a courtyard. Except the name she called wasn't his, was it? He knew her, knew every nuance of the place they stood in, and she called his name as his mother wept, but it wasn't his name. He felt the remembered pain of the lyrium burning into his skin, heard his masters voice speaking. "I'll call him Fenris. My little wolf" and fell back into the darkness, cursing and screaming. It had been his name, who he was before Danarious, the memories taken from him. But what had the name been, what courtyard, what girl? He woke to the dim light of dying embers, curled around his lover, fighting to remember what scraps of his dreams hadn't already escaped him.

Fenris stood by the embers of her hearth, wrapping and unwrapping a length of red silk from his gauntleted wrist. "Was it that bad?" a voice asked sleepily from the nearer edge of the bed.

He looked up, bracing one hand on the mantle as he shook his head. "It was fine," he started, then shook his head again. "No, that is insufficient. It was better than I could have ever dreamed".

Lupa sat up, rubbing the grit from her eyes. " Is it your markings hurting again?" she asked, started to reach out to him.

He pulled back. "It's not that. I began to remember. Flashes, just flashes. Faces, places, things from before."

Those golden eyes lit. "That's wonderful. Maybe we can work on getting more back for you."

"I don't think you realize how upsetting this is! For a moment I could remember everything, and now it's gone again. Just gone. I…I have to go"

"Wait. Please. We… we can work this out." Lupa tried to keep the desperately pleading note out of her voice, and knew she was failing.

"I'm sorry. I'm not ready for this, it's too fast. I… this should never have happened. I feel like such a fool." With one last glance at where she still sat on the rumpled bed, Fenris carefully picked his way out of her room, trying to forget the stricken, almost lost look in her eyes. He didn't look back again, even as he heard the beginnings of a choked sob from behind him.

Down the stairs and through the main room, and there was her dog. The mabari named Wolf, planted firmly in his path, staring at him reproachfully. "Do not look at me like that. It... It is better this way." The dog tilted his head and eyed him curiously. "Because it is. " He carefully reached out to pat the dog, who sighed. "Go convince her she's better off without me, please?" The dog sighed again, then walked ostentatiously around the elf, before bounding up the stairs.

Fenris made it thru Hightown to his own house, locked the door behind him, then fell to his knees on the cobwebbed tiles of the dilapidated mansion he had claimed. She deserved better than him, was better off without him, and he didn't need a mage complicating his life. It was done.

So why did he feel so very empty inside?

* * *

><p>comments or reviews mean i post more.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Bioware owns all you recoginize, but the legend lupa tells is mine.

* * *

><p>Fenris sprawled across the bench in his room, staring into the fire, wishing there was another bottle of the Agreggio left. The wind whirled thru the holes in the roof, making the rafters creak. Or was that the stairs? He looked up, reaching for his sword, and froze, staring at the mage standing in the doorway, arms full of papers and books.<p>

"Hawke." He acknowledged her, setting his sword back down. She strolled into the room, dropping her burden on his table as the mabari charged around her. The dog skittered to a stop in front of him, laying a paw on his knee and whining quietly. "And Wolf", he added, and the war hound rolled to its back at his feet, attempting to extort a belly rub. "Why are you here?" he asked, staring up at the mage even as he bent to pat the dog.

"I… Do you still want me to teach you how to read? I did sort of promise before, well, before." There were evident shadows under those golden eyes, the eyes her current cheery smile didn't reach. He wanted to run his hands thru that soft auburn hair, pull her close… he dug his fingers into the dogs fur, rubbing its silken ears, and nodded, swallowing what he wanted to say.

"That would be welcome. Thank you" he said finally, and she settled herself into one of his chairs, spreading out the papers. He rose, moving across the room to seat himself next to her. Almost bemusedly, he found himself with a quill in hand, ink and paper before him.

"We should start with the alphabet. Here…" She laid a sheet with a number of well-spaced symbols scribed on it before him. Correcting his grip on the pen, she pointed at the first symbol. "Copy each one, and I'll tell you their names, the sounds they usually represent. This is A, like apostate, or apples."

"Or Anders the abomination?" he added dryly, attempting to match the clean lines of her writing. She snorted, some of the life returning to her eyes, and he smiled weakly at her. She smiled back, nodded at his imitation of the letter, and pointed at the next symbol.

"B. B is for berries, or blood mages. Or Bartrand being a bloody bastard."

Some hours later, they had run thru the alphabet, and Fenris was carefully writing his name. His letters were still a trifle wobbly, but he was getting rather proud of his efforts. The shadow of a hand fell over his page, and he flinched back, nearly falling from his chair. Recalling where he was as he caught himself, he looked up, to see a worried expression pass across golden eyes.

"Perhaps this is a good time to break for the night", Lupa suggested quietly. "Practice the letters, think of the sounds as you write them. Write your name as often as you'd like. Start again…", she thought for a moment, "Next Tuesday?". He nodded agreeably.

Leaving the papers on the table, she started for the door, then paused. "When you finally get your hands on Danarius, would you like help killing him?"

"Why the sudden interest?" Fenris asked, as the dog reluctantly removed itself from his feet, shifting to watch her standing at the door.

"I've realized how much I dislike people hurting my friends," she smiled sadly, starting to leave. "Will you come to the Hanged Man for cards tomorrow?"

"Probably. Is Varric still buying the drinks?"

"If he's not, I am. See you then, Fenris." She carefully navigated the hazards of the stairs, vanishing from his sight, Wolf at her heels.

* * *

><p>"I can't imagine what Hawke sees in you." Anders glared at Fenris across the narrow entrance to the Hanged Man.<p>

Fenris shot the blonde healer an annoyed look, then returned to watching the auburn haired mage already sitting inside. "It is done. Leave it be, mage." He growled, rubbing a palm absently over the red sash wrapped over his gauntlet's wrist.

"Well, good. I always knew she had some sense." The former warden snorted, and Fenris turned a smoldering glare at him.

"Do not make light of this. Leaving was the hardest thing I have ever done." He snarled at the blonde, stepping forward.

Isabela moved between them, shaking her head as she blocked their paths. "Honestly, will you two get over yourselves? You're like two dogs around a bitch in heat."

"We were speaking of Hawke, not you." Fenris remarked pointedly, and the pirate laughed.

"She is something," Isabela grinned, then sashayed over to the table to claim the chair nearest the redhead. Hawke smiled brightly at her, pouring her a drink from a clearly hightown bottle.

Several diamondback turns and rounds of drinks later, Fenris stared across the table at Wolf, who was drooling over his pile of counters. The dog wuffed happily at him, then tilted his head as Isabela whispered something into a furry ear.

"Isabela, please don't teach my dog to cheat. He wipes Anders clean every week as it is." Hawke sighed, nudging the dog's hand of cards further away from the puddle of drool.

"He'd be up more than two sovereigns against us if he'd remember not to wag his tail every time he gets a good hand." Varric remarked, and the steady thump of Wolf's tail abruptly ceased "I vote the dog doesn't play anymore," Anders suggested hopefully, fidgeting with the lone counter remaining to him, and the table laughed as Wolf growled warningly.

"Anders, that's no fair. You just don't like losing to a dog. Every week. For the last two years." Hawke smirked.

"Of course, then Anders could go back to losing all his money to Fenris and me," Isabela pointed out hopefully. The blonde looked thoughtful, then shook his head.

"Come to think of it, the dog is more reasonable about payment schedules." He demurred, and the table burst out laughing again.

"Only because I'm paying him in lamb bones for you." Hawke reminded him, and the mage shrugged.

"If you really have coin to spare, you still owe me from wicked grace last winter." Fenris grumbled, and sipped his wine.

"Either way, I'm paying a snarling beast." Anders muttered, and Varric hastily interposed himself to keep Fenris in his seat.

"I think it's time for another round. Ale, anyone? I'm buying." He announced, the crossbow Bianca suddenly across his lap.

"Anders, be nice. " Hawke remonstrated, tiny sparks of lightning arcing between her fingers, and the blonde apostate muttered an apology.

"You can talk, neither of your wolves bet against you." He grumbled, and tossed down his hand. "I'm out."

"My loyal hound and my fierce knight in black leather armor, who would ask them to go against their lady fair?" She asked, laughing as she batted her eyes ridiculously.

"If he's a knight, I'm a Templar." Anders snorted, and was struck by a tiny bolt of lightning that scorched his feathered pauldrons. "That hurt!"

"You shall not impugn the honor of my wolf knight." Hawke declared almost seriously, another minibolt dancing between her fingers. "Or maybe I should allow him to seek satisfaction for your insults?" she added, her tone truly serious despite the flamboyance of her phrasing.

Fenris hid his smile as Anders backed down, and retreated hurriedly towards Darktown. "Wolf knight?" Fenris asked, as soon as the blonde was out of earshot.

"Better my knight than the pet he keeps implying you are." Hawke sighed, then looked mischievous. "After all, wolves make terrible pets," she deadpanned, catching him with a mouthful of wine. She watched him choke and splutter, then laughed "but they do make good pack mates."

* * *

><p>"Does your other wolf make a terrible pet as well?" Fenris asked later at their next reading lesson, looking to the dog curled before the fire. Lupa was seated next to him, watching him copy words. In the candlelight, her delicate features seemed subtly elven, a contrast to the rounded ears she pushed her hair behind.<p>

"Mabari aren't really pets as most of the world sees them. They are partners, companions, and they choose who they bond with. We call it imprinting. Sometimes they imprint on someone they've spent a lot of time with, or the person the breeder wants them to. Sometimes it seems completely random, but they're considered good judges of character, and their choice stands. Sometimes they bite the noble and pick the thirteen year old peasant he'd been leering at." Her voice went distant as she smiled affectionately at the sleeping dog. "Just a little puppy, and snarling like mad, keeping himself between me and the world. I called him my fierce wolf, and the name stuck."

"They bond for life then?" Fenris asked, curious. "The breed originated in Tevinter, and supposedly defected during the invasion of Ferelden. I've always rather liked the thought that they found the barbarians more palatable than the magisters."

"Our legends claim they were bred from the wolves that served Dane, but the bred by mages does seem more likely. Mabari lifespans are more like horses than dogs, and as long as their master lives they will fight willing by their side. If they somehow manage to outlive their person, they'll usually reimprint, but that doesn't happen that often." She smiled wryly, then glanced at his page. "Cat is spelled with a c, not a k." he rewrote the word, grumbling without any real discontent. "I suspect that if I were gone, he would attach himself either to you or Aveline. He likes the two of you. Well, you more, but Donnic has a habit of slipping him tidbits."

"Donnic is a good man", Fenris remarked, "Aveline is lucky to have him, though he often claims the other way around."

At their feet, Wolf made a whuffling noise, nuzzling Lupa's hand, then laid his head at the elven warrior's knee, looking intently back at his mage. "I think that's him saying he'd stay with you. Good. You warrior wolves could look after each other."

"It would be interesting, but I'd rather not have that particular circumstances come to pass." Fenris smiled dryly at her curious look, trying to hide the pain he had felt at the notion of her death. "After all, I don't even know what to feed him."

* * *

><p>Fenris stalked into his room, dumping his gear as he went. He collapsed into a chair, back to the window, and stripped off his gauntlets to better check the oozing knife wound along his bicep. It broke open again at his touch, bleeding harder, and he hissed at the fresh pain. Quiet footsteps sounded suddenly behind him, and a hand laid itself on his shoulder. "Are you…" the voice had barely time to ask, before Fenris spun on them reflexively. His brands flared bright as his hand slid into an unwary chest, fingers about to flex before he saw who stood before him. Wolf gold eyes blinked in confusion as she gasped for breath, as her heart pounded madly under his hand.<p>

"Lupa?" he whispered, recognizing her, and hastily pulled back, catching her forearms as her knees buckled. With a tug, he had her seated on the nearest bench, checking her over to make sure she had taken no lasting damage.

She coughed, the sound harsh in the quiet of the room. "New reason not to startle you." She joked, still coughing. "That really hurt."

"I'm sorry. Tonight has been…" he shook his head, trying to control the racing of his heart. He could have killed her, he thought, and shivered. "Why were you here?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. She gestured at the new pile of books on his table, and he sighed. "Right. Reading lessons. Tonight. I completely forgot. I ran into a few foolish slavers on my way through dark town and…" He indicated the bleeding line down his arm. "I am so sorry."

She reached out, running a finger flickering with blue light down the length of the wound, and it closed itself neatly, disappearing without even a trace of a scar. "A few less slavers in the world could only be a good thing."

"What were you doing by the window?" He asked, flexing the healed arm experimentally.

"There's a storm building out there. I used to sit on the roof in Lothering and watch them during the summer. Mother always scolded me for getting rain soaked, but…" she glanced at the exposed rafters and gaping hole in his roof, then grinned at him. "Want to watch this one with me?"

"Watch a storm? What about my lesson?" He asked, intrigued, his gaze flicking between her and the sky visible through his roof.

"Neither of us is exactly in the right mood for dealing with those books right now." She smiled impishly at him, "We won't get hit by lightning, I promise" He smiled tentatively back, and she scrambled over a half tumbled wardrobe, pulling herself up through the rafters, reaching back to offer him a hand up. On the rough slate of his roof, he sat gingerly next to her, feeling the wind rising. The clouds thickened above them, swirling together as flickers of lightning lit patches of them in the distance. He could feel the pressure building, taste the ozone in the air. Lupa perched on the roof peak, her gaze intently on the clouds roiling above her.

She seemed part of the growing storm, her hair redder than the sunset stained western edge of the clouds, her eyes as bright as the lightning flashes. She laughed, her voice almost lost in the distant rumble of thunder. "The Chasind have a legend about a mage called Lupa Wolf born, the Storm caller. Long ago, a Tevinter army threatened, and she raised the sky and sea against them to protect her clan. She called a storm big enough to bury an entire fleet eternally beneath the waves, but killed herself doing it. They still sing of her courage and sacrifice, believe that her magic is why the far southern coast of Ferelden is still nearly impassible, and her name is whispered every time a storm blows sea salted wind through the wilds. My paternal grandmother insisted I be named after her, when I was born wolf eyed on the night of a storm. Mother wanted to name me something 'less ominously barbaric', but Gran got her way. She usually did."

Fenris leaned closer to her. "There are worse mages to be named after, I'd imagine," he admitted. ""It's certainly better than 'little wolf'"

"Fen, you're not exactly a little anything. Besides, wolves are supposed to be fierce and free, loyal only to their pack and pack mates, not chained like a beaten dog. You're more a wolf now than you ever were in Tevinter." Lupa was watching him now, an odd light in her eyes. He met her gaze, an unspoken question in his dark olive green eyes, and her cheeks flushed as she looked away, back to the storm. "The Chasind like wolves. They serve no master but by choice, keep their own honor, and always look after their own."

"I… I had never thought of it that way. It sounds rather like something the Fog warriors once told me, during the months I remained with them." He remarked, turning his eyes back to the sky as well. "They took my side, forgave me what I was even as I turned on them at Danarius's command. Even as I killed them." His voice trembled as it had the last time he had spoken of them, and Lupa cautiously laid a hand on his knee.

"Don't. Don't blame yourself for that. Blame the cruelty of the madman who had broken you that far. Blame the insanity that allows such atrocities to continue. If you let what he made you do destroy you further, you only give him what he wants, what he intended when he made you do it," Lupa told him firmly, and let her other hand cup the side of his face, thumb running along his cheek. "They gave their lives to help you become free. Don't dishonor that sacrifice by letting him cage your mind without even trying."

Fenris took a deep breath, and sighed. "I will try. Thank you." He brushed his own hand over hers, started to reach for her, and thunder crashed behind him, startling him. He flinched, then pulled back sheepishly, staring at the darkening sky again. Lupa pulled back as well, smiling ruefully, and raised her hands to the sky as if in entreaty. And the rain fell, drenching in heavy sheets of windblown water, sluicing over their upturned faces. Lighting arced across the sky in elaborate, eye burning forks as thunder echoed in deep rumbling booms.

Lupa rose, edging carefully back towards the exposed rafters. "I think this is our cue to head back inside, not that there won't be rain inside as well." She laughed. "You should probably get the roof fixed at some point. I'd gladly lend you the money if you need it."

"But then how would I watch storms with you?" Fenris asked in his usual dry humor, then helped her back through the rafter and onto the puddled floor. The mabari was lying patiently on his bed, he noted, as far away from the dripping holes as possible.

"Very well, I'll be sure to dare the surface of your roof next time a good storm blows in. I'll bring wine and Orana's apple pastries. We could make a picnic of it." She grinned, then started spelling the water from his hair and armor. Fenris almost flinched, then fingered the dying leather of his sleeves.

"A useful trick." He admitted grudgingly. "Sometimes I forget there's more to magic than lighting enemies on fire and summoning demons."

"Mages can be very useful. We can heat bathwater, chill your drinks, patch your wounds, and still hit annoying people with lightning. The demon summoners just make the rest of us look bad." Lupa leaned against the wall, not bothering to dry herself off. "I should probably head home, before mother gets the watch looking for me. She's going to fuss over me and likely set Anders on me as is." Fenris raised an eyebrow, and Lupa shrugged. "She likes him. Says he reminds her of Father. I think Father was a bit funnier and less obsessed, personally, but I see what she means. Aside from the whole possessed by justice thing, Anders isn't a bad man. Very misguided in most of his methods, and I wish he'd leave you alone, but he does good with his clinic."

"You approve of his trying to free all the mages, then?" Fenris asked, a hint of a growl in his voice. "Not all mages are you, Hawke. For every mage strong enough to control their powers, a dozen would give way to demons at the slightest threat."

"Unfortunately, and the current policies of the circle do little to prevent it. Do I honestly approve of Anders's grand schemes? Not the way he's doing it. We need to start within the system, set up chantry run, supervised clinics for the healers. Send the best of the battle mages to the army, again supervised. Let us be where we can do good instead of caging us away where only other mages and Templars see our power's better uses. Once people no longer automatically cower in fear at the sight of magic, then maybe we can consider more widespread freedom. Open the circle doors now, as things stand, it will end with us either being hunted down like Hafter hunted the werewolves, or a new version of the imperium rising. The revolution he thinks we need will only cause bloodshed on both sides."

"Why haven't you told him that?" Fenris asked, curiously.

Lupa slammed her fist into the nearest wall. "I've tried, damn it. He won't listen! It's like Merrill and that damned bloody mirror! Every time I think I might possibly be getting through to him, Justice talks him right back to his original point, and claims I'm a distraction to his goal." She punched the wall again, and Wolf whined worriedly. "The last time I tried, he just handed me a copy of his manifesto. It's maddening." Wolf whined again, and she looked up, finally noticing the worried look on Fenris's face. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't burden you with this. I just miss when you were the only person arguing with me about principles and magic. You at least occasionally admit someone else's point of view might possibly be valid." She tried a cheery smile and almost managed it. "Besides, you never yell, and your disapproving voice is much more fun to listen to. I really should go home."

"Will you come back tomorrow night? I did miss our reading lesson." Fenris asked, his tone conciliatory, as he followed as he followed her to the door.

"I… As you wish. I'd like that. Good night, Fenris. I'll see you tomorrow then." She responded, healing her hand as she left.

* * *

><p>The dalish witch was giggling at him again, Fenris noticed, looking up from his wine. "What is it now?" He finally snapped at her.<p>

"You're in love," she crooned in a singsong voice, looking meaningfully between him and Hawke, who was playing some sort of obscure drinking game with Isabela.

"I am not!" he denied, hoping Lupa hadn't heard. She hadn't looked up, that was a good sign. Or so he hoped.

"Every time she looks away, you're staring at her with those big sad puppy eyes." Merrill was nearly bouncing in her seat as she informed him cheerily.

"There are no puppy eyes," he insisted, concentrating on not staring at Lupa as he said it, and certainly not staring at the way she had her head by the pirate's, laughing together. He growled quietly, and the bloodmage giggled again.

"It's all right, you know. Even you can be happy once in a while." Merrill glanced over at Hawke and Isabela, and giggled again. "But your face might crack if you smile, so be careful."

Fenris spluttered, and Merrill bounced off to wherever delusionally cheerful, deceptively harmless bloodmages bounced off to. He sighed, and without thinking, found his gaze firmly back on Lupa. As if sensing his look, the redhead looked up, smiling fondly as she met his eyes.

* * *

><p>reviews give me more incentive to post...<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

"You're sure? Absolutely positive?" Hawke looked up at Anders, her eyes unreadable.

"I'm sure, Hawke. It's a very simple spell. In fact, it's one I know I taught you, if only to keep me from dealing with Isabela every other month. Why didn't you check yourself?" The blond healer asked, his tone carefully patient.

"Did. Wanted a second opinion," she muttered, curling tighter on the cot, her feet tucked underneath her.

"Hoping you were wrong?" Anders asked, sitting beside her.

"I… I don't know. Maybe." The younger mage shrugged, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"You know, it's really not that far along. I could just…" Anders raised a hand, fingers flaring with magelight.

Her golden eyes widened in alarm, and she hastily shook her head. "No! No, really, that won't be necessary." She crossed her arms protectively over her stomach.

"Point taken, but why bother? I really don't know what you see in him. He's small-minded, short tempered, hopelessly prejudiced against mages, and hardly father material. On his good days he's not much better than a savage beast. Given the likelihood of it turning out as magic as you are…" He noticed Hawke's glare, and fell silent.

"Do you always have to insult him? You know how I feel. And you're right. I don't know how he would react. I'm not even sure how I'm going to tell him. But that's not a reason not to keep it. Mother will be thrilled at the notion of a grandchild, anyway." Hawke sighed. "Just promise you won't tell anyone, not yet. With any luck, the current crisis will be calmed down by the time this becomes an issue."

"Fine. I won't tell anyone, but you need to be careful. And think about what the chantry would do about a mageborn child, if nothing else." Anders sighed, and risked putting his arm around her shoulder. "You need to be careful, now more than ever." He repeated, "I don't want to lose you. You are one of the few bright lights in this city."

"You're a good friend, Anders. I don't have many of them." Hawke let herself lean back into his arm. "Before I came to Kirkwall, I didn't have anyone outside of the family. We weren't really encouraged to mingle, what with Bethany, father and me. If we made friends, they were more likely to figure out what we were hiding than if we kept to ourselves. Having friends, you and Isabela and Varric and everyone, it's made all the difference here." She tilted her head regarding the dingy clinic solemnly. "Do me a solid favor and I'll help out here. Funding, extra supplies, and an extra healer whenever I can spare the time and energy. I probably should have offered before."

"Why do I get the impression I'm not going to like the favor?" Anders asked, pushing a stray stand of blond hair away from his eyes. "Although I'm not going to deny that I could use the help."

"Stop going out of your way to antagonize Fenris? I'm not asking for friendly overtures or camaraderie, just a lack of open insults and possibly the barest levels of civility." Hawke snorted at the look on Anders's face. "I'd even settle for you pretending he wasn't there on occasion. Look, he's had as bad a time with the magisters as we've had with Templars, probably worse. You were caged, he was collared. Don't blame him for being wary until you've seen the scars he wears." Anders muttered under his breath, and Hawke sighed. "Then think of it as a favor for me, so I don't keep turning around and finding you two at each other's throats."

"Very well. For your sake, and the sake of my clinic, I'll try to hold my tongue. Do you think you could manage to come by tomorrow? It gets busy around dark."

* * *

><p>Isabela bounced into Hawke's study, looking thoroughly pleased with herself. Hawke set down the stack of correspondence and looked up with a sigh. "Do I want to know?" She asked the pirate.<p>

"Can I be Auntie Isabela? Please?"

"What?"

"When you have the little Hawke, can I be their Auntie Isabela?" The Rivaini raider leaned over and hugged the mage. "Babies are cute as long as I can hand them back."

"Remind me to do something painful to Anders. Why did he tell you?" Hawke asked, dropping her head onto the pile of letters.

"He had a note about dragging you back for a checkup next week on his desk, and I may have begun pestering him about why you needed a checkup. For the next 3 hours, until he slipped up and told me. Is it Fenris's? It would be so cute if it had his big green eyes. Have you told him yet?"

"Giving me time to figure out how to tell him he's going to be a father was one of the reasons I asked Anders not to tell anyone. I haven't told my mother yet, either."

"It can't be that hard. 'Hey, pretty boy. I'm pregnant.'" Isabela grinned at the look on her friends face.

"Hi, you have sired a child with better than even chances of being a mage, plus whatever potential oddities come from the living lyrium worked into your flesh, largely because your leaving me in the middle of the night upset me so much I didn't think to take precautions. And the chantry makes a point of taking away any children a mage produces, so we have that to worry about as well."

"Fine, I guess that would be a difficult conversation, considering his feelings on mages. That doesn't mean you don't need to tell him."

"I know, I know. I'll try. Doesn't mean he'll listen. He has a habit of trying to change the subject when things he doesn't want to discuss come up, and he's good at it."

* * *

><p>"Fenris, we need to talk." Hawke started, sitting next to the elf on the bench. "About us…"<p>

"Did you want to rant about Anders again?" Fenris asked, not taking his eyes off the small book in front of him. "You've been spending a great deal of time at his clinic lately."

"No, this isn't about… Wait. How precisely do you know about how much I've been at the clinic?" Wolf gold eyes blinked then narrowed. "Have you been following me? Fenris!"

"Darktown is a dangerous place to travel, even with your loyal dog," he blandly stated, and her eyes flashed warningly.

"I can handle myself, Fenris."

"Even if Anders loses control again? You've admitted his demon does not favor you." Fenris pointed out, setting his book down. Lupa did not belong to him, he reminded himself. She did not belong to anyone, regardless of how quietly smug the possessed healer had been around him lately. But he would be damned if he would let her go to the abomination without reminding her in detail why he was dangerous. And if he drove her away in the process, then he would not have to hear her dismissal of his affections, poor as they were. Let me cling to my illusions a little longer, he thought, before you ignore me as he does.

"That is not the damned point. The point is; you're my friend, not my bodyguard." Lupa's hands clenched, and she stood.

"Am I not? I was trained to be a mage's protection."

"And I am not that mage!" She raised one hand, sparking with lightning, lowering it a second later with a resigned sigh. "I should leave, before I end up doing something I'd regret. I am not Danarius, Fen. I don't need a bodyguard or a pet. I… I need friends. Sneaking around to follow me is not the act of a friend." She ran her hands back through her hair. "I want a drink," she muttered, then looked back at Fenris. "This is going nowhere. I'm heading to Sundermount tomorrow with Merrill and Isabela. Come along if you'd like, stay here and brood if you'd rather."

* * *

><p>A thousand times over the next weeks, she'd try to talk to Fenris, to tell him, but without fail, something would come up. A mere mention of the night they had shared led to him swiftly changing the subject. He was infuriatingly good at changing the subject when he wanted to, she mused. "Of course, being infuriating in general seems to be a talent of his," she commented to Isabela, who had been listening to the mage ramble about the elf for the last hour. Having a friend was proving to be more work than the pirate had expected.<p>

"You do realize you're so gone on him it's ridiculous, right?" Isabela asked, drinking the rum she had talked Lupa into buying for her. "I'm not sure if it's cute or pathetic."

The mage dropped her head dramatically to the table. "I know. I can't help it. He's just so him. He's strong and sweet, and I completely don't deserve him. Any suggestions?"

"We should have a drunken threesome!" Isabela suggested brightly. One wolf gold eye glared at her from under the fall of dark auburn hair. "Or not..." the pirate sighed. "Do I at least still get to be Auntie Isabela when the little Hawke comes? Please?"

"As long as you realize that I am disclaiming all knowledge of this conversation the moment my mother asks where her grandchild learned whatever it picks up from you," Hawke sighed.

"You're no fun," Isabela laughed, grinning at the look on Hawke's face.

* * *

><p>Hawke turned up an hour late to the next week's card game, hair mussed and eyes worried. "My mother's missing," she announced.<p>

"She's probably out shopping still. It's barely evening, Hawke," Varric shrugged, and made as if to deal her in.

"Allow me to rephrase that. My mother is missing, and someone sent her white lilies this morning." Hawke explained, fingers drumming nervously on the table.

Aveline looked up sharply. "White lilies? Like the ones the murderer that Templar was chasing sent his victims?"

Hawke nodded. "Please. I need to find her." She whispered. "She's all the family I have left." Fenris found himself at her side in a heartbeat, Isabela and Aveline not far behind.

* * *

><p>An urchin's account led them to an ominous blood trail, leading through Lowtown to the abandoned foundry; the foundry where Hawke had once found a missing woman's hand and assorted bones. Lupa knelt by the blood pool nearest the door, her heart sinking as she saw where it led.<p>

A scant hour later, she sat next to the broke body of an insane malificar, cradling the necromantic construct that had worn her mother's face, staring blankly. "I should have been faster," she whispered hollowly, then rose, heading towards home without even a glance at the others.

Fenris slipped into the manor quietly that night, closing the door just in time to hear Lupa's uncle Gamlen's raised voice. "Maybe the Templars are right, lock all the mages up!" The perpetual drunk was yelling.

"Maybe they are," responded a quiet, hollow toned voice, and Gamlen sighed.

"Magic has always run in our family, and it has always been a curse," he told his niece. "I wish you hadn't told me what that madman had done to her. I wish I hadn't asked. I hope you killed him. I hope it hurt." The drunkard stalked out the door from the study, not noticing a black armored elf crouched in the shadows by the dog. Fenris heard the crack and sizzle of a bottle being thrown into a fireplace, and then weary footsteps trudging up the stairs.

She was sitting on her bed, staring blankly at the wall when he carefully stepped around the doorframe, mabari at his heels. "I…I do not know what I could say, but I am here," he announced quietly, looking uncomfortable.

"Say something?" she asked, a thin shred of hope in her voice.

"I have heard it said that death is but a journey," he offered. "Does that help at all?" He sat on the bed just within arm's reach, wishing he knew how to take the sorrow from her eyes.

"A little," she sniffled, and the dog scrambled onto the bed to press against her other side. "I promised Father I'd look after them. I've failed. First Bethany, then Carver in the deep roads, now Mother. Wolf here is all the family I have left, discounting uncle Gamlen."

"Gamlen is rather easy to discount," Fenris agreed, and Hawke smiled for a moment, and then just looked at him, her eyes going unreadable.

"Could you promise me something?" she asked, her voice suddenly intent.

"Promise what?" he asked cautiously, old worries briefly resurfacing.

"If I ever fall that far, become a danger to others, fallen enough that I'd harm innocents, start blood magic or become an abomination or anything of the sort, kill me? Please?"

"What?" He responded incredulously. That was not the promise he had expected.

"If I am twisted enough to use the blood of innocents for power, or become demon taken, I am no longer me, but merely a danger to those around me. In that situation, I would be better off dead, and I would prefer that you do it. You are the strongest person I know, and I trust you." He blinked at her, still taken aback, and she grabbed his arm. "Please, Fenris, don't let me become another Quentin," she begged, naming the blood mage who had killed so many before her mother. She was crying, and he pulled her close, tucking her head against his shoulder and awkwardly patting her back.

"I promise, Lupa. If you become demon taken or a blood mage, I will slay you before innocents come to harm." She buried her face against the leather of his armor, fingers curved around his arm.

"Thank you," she whispered, then started sobbing, and the dog nudged her further into the elf's embrace. He held her while the storm of weeping passed, his chin resting against the top of her head, listening as the sobbing quieted and her breathing steadied. Sometime later he carefully maneuvered a sleeping mage under her blankets, tucking them around her before the dog curled at her feet.

As he tenderly brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, Wolf nudged at his other hand. He looked over at the mabari, and the dog placed its teeth around his wrist, ever so barely indenting his skin, too intelligent canine eyes regarding him carefully. "I will try. We both know I do not deserve her, but I will not abandon her while she needs me, not if I am given the choice." Fenris answered the unspoken question in the dog's eyes, and the warhound's strong jaws released his arm. Wolf licked his palm, then sprawled along Lupa's legs, stubby tail wagging furiously.


	4. Chapter 4

Bioware owns anything you recognize. have fun

* * *

><p>"Technically, Tevinter follows the chantry. But since they broke with the divine, the old ways have crept back. The magisters consider blood magic a sacrifice to power their spells. They figure other, lesser sacrifices can do the same." Fenris told Sebastian as he sipped his wine.<p>

"Such superstitions have no place in the chantry." The archer shook his head, fingering his chantry amulet.

"Which is why Tevinter left," the elf responded dryly. "Count yourself lucky you stayed here when we went chasing those Carta dwarves trying to kill Hawke."

"Does the Tevinter chantry tell the same story of how the darkspawn came to be?" Sebastian asked, leaning forward.

"Slaves are not regaled with a Tevinter version of the chant of light. If I had to guess, I suspect it would go like 'And lo, the greatest of the magisters ventured into the makers city. And to reward them for their courage, he created darkspawn as a scourge against their enemies.'" Fenris snorted, and took another sip from his wine.

"You don't think they take responsibility for their actions?"

"Responsibility is the only thing the magisters don't take." Fenris growled, taking a larger gulp from his wineglass, and glaring at something over the archer's shoulder. Sebastian turned, to see Anders and Hawke sitting at the next table, heads together as they pored over a stack of paper.

Sebastian tried to think of a response, but was spared by Isabela's rushed entrance. "Hawke! I know where the relic is. Please help me get it?"

Hawke pushed the papers aside, and grinned up at the pirate. "Sure. Anyone else want to come along?"

"Hawke, I'll need your help dealing with the qunari later today, they're trying to shelter a couple of elven fugitives." Aveline added, even as she collected her shield and sword. "I don't know why they haven't left yet." Behind the guard captain, Fenris saw an almost guilty expression pass over Isabela's face, before she caught up with Hawke.

* * *

><p>The viscount's head bounced down the stairs toward the crowd of frightened nobles, his crown rolling past to clang against the opening door. The Arishok stalked forward to the top of the stairs, staring at the richly dressed humans in disgust. "You are like fat dathrasi. You feed and feed, and only complain when your meal is interrupted. You do not look up. You do not see that the grass is dead and bare. All that you leave in your wake is misery. You are blind. I will make you see!" He roared before noticing the open door. Hawke strode in, kicking the aside the fallen crown as she entered, Fenris, Aveline, and Anders positioned behind her. "But we have guests. Shanedan, Hawke, I was expecting you. You alone are Basalit-an." He glared at the nobles again. "This is what respect looks like. Some of you will never earn it." He looked forward again, to where Hawke stood before him. "So tell me, Hawke. You know I am denied Par Vollen until the tome is returned. How would you resolve this?"<p>

Before Lupa could answer, the sounds of fighting echoed behind her, and Isabela kicked the door open, cradling a large book in her arms. "I can answer that," she remarked, striding forward to present the book to the qunari leader. "I believe you'll find it mostly undamaged."

The Arishok took the tome reverently, examining it for a moment while the pirate grinned at the mage. "It took me a while to get back, what with all the fighting everywhere. You know how it is."

The golden eyed mage was eying Isabela with a look of pleased disbelief. "I thought you'd be long gone by now."

"This is your damned influence, Hawke. I was halfway to Ostwick before I knew I had to turn around. It's pathetic." Isabela shook her head, smiling ruefully at Hawke. "Couldn't leave you here to play hero by yourself, could I?"

"The tome of Koslun is returned. I am free to return to Par Vollen." The Arishok declared, handing the book to another qunari, before looking meaningfully back at Isabela. "With the thief."

The pirate took a step back towards Hawke. "Wait. What?" she asked, disbelievingly. Behind her, Guard captain Aveline snorted, hefting her shield.

"Oh no. If anyone gets to kick the pirate whore's ass, it's me."

The Arishok fixed his gaze on Hawke, continuing in a flatly reasonable tone. "She stole the tome of Koslun. She must return with us."

Hawke glanced at the worried expression on Isabela's face, then back at the qunari leader. "You have something specific in mind, I gather," she hesitantly put forth.

"She will submit to the Qun and the Ben-Hassrath. More than that I will not say," he answered, bone chillingly calm. Isabela gulped, and took another fractional step closer to Hawke.

"You have your relic. She stays with us," Lupa responded, almost unconsciously putting herself between her friend and the large angry kossith. Somewhere beneath her heart, she felt movement within her womb, and sighed, even as the qunari glowered at her. "She is under my protection. I won't let you take her any more than you'd let the guards take the viddethari converts."

"Then you leave me no choice. I challenge you, Hawke. You and I will duel to the death, with her as the prize," the Arishok announced, one hand on his sword's hilt.

Hawke froze, one hand going protectively over her belly, and Isabela stepped forward. "No. If you're dueling anyone, it should be me."

The qunari leader spared her one dismissive glance. "You are not Basalit-an. You are unworthy."

"Isabela," Hawke spoke quietly, one hand restrainingly on the pirate's arm. "I… I'll handle this. Just… Look after Wolf, would you? And Fenris?" she asked, the last barely breathed before she gently pushed her friend in the direction of the others. "Alright, then," she told the Arishok resignedly, as she reached for her staff. "Let's dance."

"Meravas, Hawke," the Arishok responded. "So shall it be!"

As the center floor cleared, nobles and qunari alike seeking vantage points to watch from, Isabela scrambled towards the others. "Fenris!" Aveline and Anders glared at her, the elf not taking his eyes off his mage. "Fenris…" she hissed again, grabbing for his arm. "You can't let her do this!"

"Do what?" he snarled, yanking his arm out of her grasp. "Clean up your mess? Protect you from the consequences of your own actions? I don't know why you came back."

"Fine, you have a good right to be furious with me. Just stop her. Fight as her champion or something. She'll listen to you," Isabela pleaded.

"To have another take her place would only make he seem weak and diminish the respect she gets as Basalit-an, as a respected outsider. At this point, it would likely lead to outright war," he sighed, watching the two circling in the center of the room. Sometimes he forgot just how delicately built his mage was, shorter than he was and almost elvenly slender. Circling around the horned giant, she seemed like a frail child. He clenched his fist, wishing he could do as the rogue wanted and take her place. "Hawke can handle herself," he stated, as much to himself as the pirate, "quite well, in fact. Why are you so insistent she not duel?"

Anders turned, eying the rogue and the elf. "She still hasn't told him?" he asked Isabela, who shook her head.

"She said he kept changing the subject, or picking an argument to make her leave," The rivaini raider answered, and Fenris frowned.

"Tell me what, precisely?" he asked, a sudden horrible feeling that he had misjudged certain attempts at talking Lupa had made sinking through him.

"That she's carrying your child," Isabela hissed, and Fenris blanched. He glanced up at the duel in progress, seeing a faint heaviness to Lupa's motions as she dodged the Arishok's sword and axe. "I only know because I went digging around in Anders's clinic stuff and found a note from her regarding checkups."

"That was why she was spending so much time at his clinic?" Fenris asked, glancing between the healer and pirate.

"Well, that and as a bribe to get Anders not to antagonize you so much," Isabela corrected, and Fenris pressed past her, stepping forward towards the duel, only to be warned back by one of the karashok.

In the center of the room, the Arishok swung, and Hawke dodged, then threw lightning at him. A bolt of ice followed, and she barely dashed out of the ensuing charge. Stepping behind him, she lashed out with her staff, then sidestepped, lightning flashing again. The flurry of magical attacks from the powerful mage was clearly wearing on the qunari, and Fenris took a deep breath in relief. Ice bolt, lightning strike, and dodge right, but the Arishok had only feinted left, and swung, hard.

The flat side of the axe caught her as she tried to skitter out of range, smacking her back into a pillar, and she barely dodged back out of the downward swipe of his sword, the tip ripping down her robes. She scrambled back to her feet, and another blast of lightning flashed at the Arishok, followed by a wave of force magic that slammed him back onto the stairs. The qunari leader tried to get to his feet, but collapsed, even as Hawke raised her staff above him. "Someday, we shall return," he gasped, and the killing blow struck.

The gathered nobles cheered enthusiastically, as the other qunari filed out of the room, the head of the line clutching the tome. Hawke regarded them wearily, bracing a hand against the pillar for balance.

Knight Commander Meredith strode in, taking in the situation in a glance as the other Templars assembled behind her. She surveyed the scene grimly, as Hawke fought to stand straighter, holding her staff tighter. "Well," she said finally, fixing Hawke with a measuring stare as she slowly sheathed her sword. "It seems Kirkwall has a new Champion." With her word, the nobles cheered again, and Hawke carefully made a dignified exit passed the gathered crowd, limping slightly.

* * *

><p>The others found her in an empty hallway, leaning back against the wall with one bright glowing hand pressed desperately against the long rip in her robes, blood dripping through her fingers. "I think I needed to dodge faster," she joked weakly, then groaned as an ominous cramp ran through her lower abdomen. "Anders?" she asked pleadingly, as her staff clattered to the floor.<p>

* * *

><p>Fenris paced in front of the manor fireplace, Wolf at his side for every step. Aveline and Varric sat in cushioned chairs, alternating worried looks at each other and glares at Isabela, who was perched anxiously on the edge of the table. Anders wearily started down the stairs, and found all eyes fixed on him. "She'll live," he announced. "She needs rest, and it is going to scar nastily, but she should be okay."<p>

"And little Hawke?" Isabela asked, in a tone that suggested she had already guessed the answer.

Anders just shook his head. "Already lost by the time I got to her." He shot a nasty look at Fenris, before heading for the door. "By the way, she was asking for you when I left the room, if you care. Try not to upset her too badly." Fenris didn't even bother to return the glare before charging up the stairs, Wolf still at his heels.

* * *

><p>She seemed so frail, like a single gust of wind would blow her away. "Fenris?" she whispered, as he sat on the bed next to her.<p>

"Hush. I am at your side, as always" he assured her, as the mabari scrambled up against her, desperately licking her face.

"Enough, Wolf," she said, pushing at a fur covered side until the dog retreated to the foot of the bed. "Fenris, I tried…" she started, struggling to sit up, only to find his hands gently holding her down.

"You need rest," he told her firmly, before laying down on top of the covers next to her, an arm draped protectively over her. "You tried to tell me. I was a stubborn fool. I thought you had replaced me with Anders, were going to tell me we were through. I didn't want to hear it, to have my fears made real." He carefully brushed a lock of hair away from her face.

"Anders could never replace you, ever." She reached up, ran her fingers lightly over his cheekbone to the tip of his ear, as if assuring herself he was really there. "I was going to name him Malcolm, or Danthera, after my Gran, if it was a girl. I…" She started sobbing quietly, and he held her close, his eyes filling with tears as well at the thought of what might have been. "Anders says the scarring, it… that it would take a miracle for me to conceive again," she told him, in between hitching sobs. Fenris buried his face in her hair, inhaling the flowery scent of her soap, and tried to think of something, anything to say, the auburn hair under his face growing as damp as his leathers under hers.

When her breathing slowed into the patterns of sleep, he tried to extricate himself without waking her. "I do not deserve you," he whispered, and the dog deliberately arranged himself over his legs, giving him a flat look, even as her fingers latched tighter on his sleeves, unconsciously protesting his movement. "It seems I am outnumbered," he sighed, and nestled back against her, his forehead resting by hers as his hands soothingly stroked her back.

* * *

><p>Fenris wandered into Hawke's manor, Wolf asleep on the hearth, a large black cat curled between his paws. From the mantelpiece, a dark patterned tortoiseshell regarded him regally, tail tucked around dainty white paws. Lupa sat in a chair watching the fire, feet tucked under her and a book forgotten on her lap.<p>

"I heard there was going to be a storm tonight. Perhaps you might like to watch it with me? I still haven't fixed my roof," he offered, sitting in the chair opposite hers.

She blinked, smiling up at him. "That sounds like fun. And I have a bottle of alcohol I'd like to share, courtesy of Athenril's apology for not getting me your note before she borrowed you for a few months. Have you ever had Aqua Magus?" she asked, laughing when he only raised one eyebrow.

* * *

><p>thankyou to the people who have me on alert, for giving me incentive to post. incidentally, the next few chapers are typed. reviews mean i update, within reason.<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

**Strength of the wolf. Chapter 5**

* * *

><p><strong>thank Enchanter T.I.M for reviewing and giving me incentive to post. <strong>

* * *

><p>She knew something was wrong the moment Varania started talking. Something in Fenris's sister's tone, the way she wouldn't meet his eyes, the nervous glances she shot towards the stairs. Something was very wrong. "Fenris, we need to leave. Now," Lupa hissed, even as she reached back for her staff. Fenris's gaze flicked to her, questioning, then followed Varania's glance at the stairs, and his eyes widened.<p>

He spun, turning on his sister. "You'd betray your own brother?" he asked, voice incredulous.

"Now, Now, my pet. She only did as any good Imperial citizen should." Danarius stood on the stairs, surrounded by Tevinter soldiers, staring smugly down at the runaway he intended to reclaim. "And this must be your new mistress, the Champion of Kirkwall."

Lupa could hear Fenris's breathing speed with either rage or panic next to her, and stepped forward, placing herself between the man she loved and his former master. "Fenris is no one's slave," she snarled, gripping her staff, and staring up defiantly. Nothing would take Fenris from her but his own will, she swore to herself, not while she drew breath.

"Is that a note of jealousy I hear in your voice?" The magister smiled indulgently before leering over her shoulder at Fenris, who flinched back. "The lad is skilled, I'll give him that." Lupa caught the insinuation in his voice, the implications of it, and bared her teeth. She was going to make him hurt for that, she thought through a haze of protective rage.

"I never asked for these filthy markings, Danarius, but I won't let you kill me to get them," Fenris growled, reaching back for the sword Lupa had given him.

"Oh, how little you know my pet. And the address is Master, if you've forgotten," Danarius corrected, and spoke one spell laced word, snapping red glowing fingers. Fenris dropped to one knee, eyes wide as agony swept through his markings. "See, at least you remember how to kneel. That's a start," The magister remarked, smirking.

"Leave him alone!" Lupa snarled at the Tevinter mage, her teeth clenched. "Don't you dare hurt him."

"I'll do as I like with what's mine, wench. And as you're not inclined to be reasonable…" he flicked a hand, and the soldiers charged forward.

Lupa bared her teeth at them,lunging in with lightning and staff blow, fighting to keep them back as Fenris struggled to his feet. Then he was there, at her side, complementing her movements as blade and magic flashed. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Isabela skirting the fight, hamstringing there, backstabbing here, doing as much damage as she could. Anders hung back, looking worried, throwing fire and ice into the melee as often as he dared.

The guards kept falling, overmatched by the long practiced harmony of the group, of the whirling pair at the center watching each other's backs. Even when shades and demons joined the fight, when the magister raised his staff and strode in, they held, neither gaining more than nicks and bruises. Danarius spoke that word again, his fingers snapping sharply, and Fenris lurched, trying to keep his feet as Lupa stepped forward, defensively. She snarled, baring her teeth at the Tevinter lord who smirked, even as she raised her staff to strike him down.

The volley of blood magic caught her off guard, coming from an unwatched corner. It blasted her off her feet, flinging her against the far wall. Fenris, regaining his balance, stared disbelievingly at Varania, standing in the corner, blood still dripping down her palm, and then looked to Lupa. "Hawke? He cried, then almost smiled as she rose, taking a tentative step forward. The smile faded as he watched. Something was wrong. He saw the stake of splintered wood protruding from her abdomen, saw her look down, a confused look on her face.

"Oh," she said, then coughed, spraying blood. As her knees buckled under her, she knelt, hands around the stake where it jutted from her flesh. Fenris watched the blue-white glow flicker around her fingers, then die as one of the men near Danarius raised a hand. A Tevinter Templar, Fenris cursed, even as he fought to her side. She looked up at him, eyes worried as more blood oozed from her mouth. "Fen?" she coughed, raising one blood covered hand to him. "Loved you… Always… Sorry… Tried.." she whispered, the blood now sheeting over her chin. Her eyes were clouding, and he felt an icy chill sink through his spine.

"No. No, I will not allow it," Fenris told her, grabbing her hand. "Lupa…" Behind them, the Magister snapped his fingers again, and Fenris staggered, barely avoiding hitting his head on the floor. Before him, she began to slump over, the blood dripping from her mouth and pouring from her wound pooling under her. Something charged from behind, clubbing him out of the way with the butt of a staff. "Lupa!"

Anders knelt by Hawke's side, hands working frantically even as he glared back at the elf. "It's your fault, you damned feral dog!" the rogue warden snapped. "You brought this on us, on her. I hope they kill you slowly." The healer looked back at Hawke, eyes going pleading. "Come on, don't die. Not over this… Not over him…" he muttered.

One of the remaining soldiers grabbed Fenris, binding his arms harshly as the elf crouched, watching the blood pool under his unresponsive lover grow. They dragged him out, limp as the dead, bundling him roughly through Dark town streets and darker tunnels until he was thrown unceremoniously at Danarius's feet. Dirt under his feet, he noted dully. They were out of the city. Danarius spoke, but Fenris didn't hear, too lost in the inescapable image of his Lupa, eyes clouding as she lay in a spreading pool of her own blood.

The magister's boot caught him across the side of his head, dragging his attention back to the present. He looked up, saw the fury in Danarius's face, and turned his broken-eyed gaze at his sister. "You killed her," he whispered, in a voice that echoed the pain swirling through his soul.

His sister's eyes, so much like the ones he saw in every mirror he passed, flicked to Danarius, then back to him. "He offered to make me his apprentice, Leto. I could become a magister," She shrugged, walking off without another look, Hawke's golden staff slung casually over her back. Danarius snapped his fingers again, but this time Fenris almost welcomed the agony washing through his brands, briefly absolving the pain and emptiness swallowing his heart. Oblivion threatened, and he reached for it gladly.

* * *

><p>When he woke, it was to a forceful kick in the ribs. He lay bound before a guttering fire, stripped of his armor, weapon, everything but the thin leather of his leggings. A throat cleared deliberate nearby and he looked up to where Danarius perched on a blanket covered rock, Fenris's sword across his lap and something red dangling from his fingers. Something red and…Lupa's sash. The length of red silk he had taken from her favorite robes, to remind himself of her. The magister read his growing dismay in his eyes, and smirked.<p>

Certain he had his lost slave's attention, Danarius lifted a small pouch into view, one marked distinctly with the Amell crest, the one Fenris had worn to show at whose side he fought. Fenris's spirit sank even lower. With a contemptuous flick, his master opened the pouch, dumping the sparse contents into his palm. A number of mixed coins; a small golden charm he had won off Isabela; a silver chantry amulet Sebastian had pressed on him after one of their discussions; a diamondback deck and the counters Donnic had lost to him last week; a vaguely leaf shaped green stone the dalish blood mage had given him for Wintersend, claiming it matched his eyes; assorted small things he had been gifted or found over the last seven years that had enough meaning for him to keep close. All but the coins were methodically flicked into the fire behind him, followed by the pouch itself, and the coins tossed carelessly at Varania.

Enjoying himself, the magister ran the length of red silk over his fingers, watching the pain in Fenris's eyes as he tracked the movement. Danarius held the sash out for a second, letting the ocean breeze brush the tip of it over the elf's bruised cheek. Fenris crouched, raising his bound hands in a desperately supplicating gesture. "Please, Master. " Fenris pleaded, trying to catch the fluttering edge of his lover's token, to save it if nothing else from the beckoning flames behind him. Danarius smirked, yanking the sash back out of reach.

"Ah, my pet, you've remember how to address me. And you beg so prettily, too. This does bring back memories." He dangled the sash over Fenris's head, kicking the elf in the ribs when he frantically tried to reach for it. "A pity I can't indulge you this time," the magister laughed, and tossed the silk onto the embers at the edge of the fire. As Fenris watched the frayed edges of silk slowly singe and catch, Danarius shifted back on the rock, settling the sword more comfortably across his lap. "And this?" the magister asked, and the elf glanced up to see his master running an appreciative hand over the blade of mercy, watching the lines in it smolder at a touch. "Who let the likes of you get your hands on one of these?" he continued inquiringly, his tone deceptively mild. Fenris dropped his gaze, staring dully at the slowly smoldering edges of the red silk sash. He remembered how bright her golden eyes had been as she pressed the sword into his grasp, her soft voice apologizing for the templars that grabbed him losing his last one, how warm the firelight had looked against her pale skin and auburn hair. "Never mind," his master chuckled darkly, "Its not likely she'll be wanting it back, all considered, is it?"

The magister's boot cracked almost absently into his aching ribs again as he rose from the rock, tucking Fenris's lover's gift carelessly into a spare pack. The elf started to rise, the haze of rage filling his sight, and caught a glimpse of red silk with a flame playing idly over it. The rage vanished, replaced by icy numbness with a center of knife sharp guilt as he dropped. She was gone. His Lupa was gone, dying on the filthy floor of a Lowtown tavern, because he had wanted to meet his sister. The wolf eyed woman he loved, the sarcastic mage girl of gentle healing and deadly lightning, the apostate who fiercely defended her freedom and everyone else's, was dead. 'Does freedom matter if you deny it to others?' she had once asked in a card night argument, trying to separate himself and the renegade warden. They had both snapped at her over that, but she had held firm. His vision misted over again, this time with tears. He could hear desperate whimpering, someone begging "please no" over and over, only dimly realizing it was him. His Lupa was dead, and it felt like all that mattered of him had died with her.

* * *

><p>please don't track me down and kill me. I cant post the rest if i am dead. sigh. poor fenris. i felt horrible just writing this...<p>

review and chapter 6 could be up in a few days... or sooner. i hold update hostage, bwa ha ha.


	6. Chapter 6

Lupa stood on a path in the fade, a flickering version of a place she had known well as a child. Cautiously, she followed the trail, surprisingly unsurprised by how well she remembered each twist and turn. It lead through twisted trees to a tidy cottage in a small clearing, with a neatly thatched roof and whitewashed walls. A white feathered ducks paddled in the small rock edged pond, and a scattering of chickens pecked hopefully around the fringes of the fenced garden. The home where her father had been born, where her hedge witch grandmother had lived her life, perfect right down to the cat sleeping in the sunbeam on the threshold.

"The Templars burned it to the ground when I was twelve, Gran still inside, screaming," the mage said almost meditatively to the area around her. "I was there. I watched. This will not trick me," she asserted, the chickens fluttering around her feet as she walked.

"If I remember, you did more than watch. You hunted the Templars down, striking at them from ambush in the depth of the forest. Your first kills..." A voice chuckled darkly out the forest shadows, silken and growling and amused.

"There were only two of them, overconfident after murdering an old, feeble woman who never intended harm to an innocent in her life. They only knew of her magic because someone whose life her healing saved chose to tell them. They only knew where she was because…"

"Because they tracked the terrified twelve year old who's first thought after getting clear of them was to run for a place she thought of as safe?" Even more amusement seeped through the voice.

"They let me escape. In retrospect, I know that well. At the time, I thought it luck, thought I had lost the hounds on my trail. I led them almost straight here," Lupa regretfully admitted, staring at the cottage.

"In your defense, it could be said that you weren't really in a condition to be thinking clearly, which was likely part of their rationale in doing it to you in the first place," the voice offered, and Lupa flinched.

"I try not to think about that," she whispered, then shrugged, feigning unconcern. "Why am I here?"

"I thought a familiar place might help put you at ease." A long legged black wolf strolled out of the shadows and stretched unconcernedly, displaying a large number of dismayingly sharp white fangs almost ostentatiously as he yawned. As he walked towards her, his form shimmered, shifting seamlessly into a tall elven male in sinuous silk and leather, the bone beads in his long black hair clicking in a nonexistent wind, mischievous green gold eyes dancing with dark amusement in a sculpted face. "I was always rather fond of your grandmother. She was all kinds of trouble, before she settled down. You take after her," the stranger remarked, leaning against a tree as Lupa seated herself on a large stone at the edge of the pond, the ducks scattering at her approach. "The human blood is obvious, as it always is, but you still favor her heavily." Suddenly he was behind her, running a sharp nailed, nearly clawed finger delicately over her even features, other hand running through her hair. "Clever idea, to hide the scars from a Templar's blade and burning ash under the swirls of tattoos…" He murmured, tracing the lines hidden under ink. "Elven short, almost elven slender with a human's curves, her autumn hair and golden eyes…" He brushed her hair back behind a human's rounded ear, and ran his thumb over the straight elegant line of her nose. "It is very clear why you were her precious wolf cub," the elf continued, his tone mildly distracted.

"Am I alive or dead, that I sit here with you, trickster?" Lupa asked in a carefully neutral tone.

"Smart girl, to know who I am, and without even a proper introduction. I've met Dalish who don't catch on as fast, and they really should know better. That will make this easier," Fenharel, the Dread Wolf, smiled at her, and his teeth were fangs. "To answer your question, you are neither, at this particular moment. Justice's pet won't let your body fail until your soul flees beyond the fade, and I happen to be preventing that at the moment."

"Why?" She asked, her tone still mild. "Why am I important enough for you to bother with?"

"Because, despite your human blood, I find you highly amusing," the elven trickster god smiled again, and seated himself on a rock near hers. "You and that delectably lyrium laced mate of yours. Speaking of…" he flicked a hand at the pond, and the water cleared, then swirled, a disturbing picture forming on its surface. Lupa gasped, seeing Fenris kicked away by Anders fighting to get to her, the dead look in his eyes as the Tevinter soldiers dragged him away. Fenris stripped, bound, as the magister methodically burned everything of personal value to him. The abuses the soldiers heaped on his barely resisting form, as Danarius laughed and Varania stared elsewhere, as if what happened to the reclaimed slave collared like a dog before her meant nothing, despite the ties of blood.

"They'll kill him," Lupa whispered, knuckles white gripping the sides of the rock as she leaned toward the pond, her tears steaming as they touched the surface of the pond without breaking the image she couldn't look away from.

"No, they won't. They'll beat him bloody, starve him into submission, likely even force themselves upon him, but they won't kill him. Eight days of travel down the wounded coast, a Tevinter ship lies docked in a hidden cove. Once on that ship, the winds will hurry them home. Once back in Minrathous, Danarius will strip Fenris of his memories again, rendering him compliant enough for retraining. He will live out his life in collared servitude, in empty broken misery without ever knowing the true reason why. He already wishes for death to return him to your side, but he will not be granted that mercy." Fenharel watched the golden eyed mage go pale, staring up at him mutely. "There is a chance that Anders might be able to save your life on his own, but by the time you regain your feet, Fenris will be on a ship Tevinter bound. Even if from your sick bed you convince those of your companions who care to pursue him, they will never catch up in time. Twoleggers are so very slow, after all."

He smiled darkly at her as she stared back at the pond, frozen briefly on the image of a bound and bloodied elf. "Then there is no hope," Lupa whimpered, her voice empty.

"I could offer you a deal, amusing as the two of you are," he remarked almost casually, buffing his claws on the leather of his vest. His smirk widened as her head shot up, eyes fixing on him. "Thought that might get your attention," he laughed. "A twolegger could never catch up with them. They have too much of a lead and they're pushing too hard. But a wolf could. Wolves can run for days without stopping, at faster than a group of humans can push or drag a wounded elf. If you woke up today, healed enough to run and with your magic returned, able to take a wolf's shape, you could catch up, run them down, hunt them until he is again free." He flicked a hand absently, power swirling around him. "It wouldn't even be that difficult."

"I won't let you possess me," she whispered, the hope in her eyes dying again.

"I don't need to. I am Fenharel, not some quivering demon. The knowledge of shapeshifting is an easy lesson to instill. That, the repair of your body, I'll even throw in my general favor for as long as my whim lasts, and you keep your body as your own. Perhaps I'll even delay the magister's travel a little, to improve your odds." He scrutinized his claws carefully, watching her over the tips.

"What's the price?" Lupa asked, her tone a mix of hope and wariness.

"Only your soul." The mage blanched, and the Dread Wolf laughed. "Not now, mind you. When you die, die for true, your soul, and the power therein, comes to me. No bouncing off to the maker's side, no worries about the void. You will be mine. Until you no longer amuse me, of course, at which point I'll devour your soul,and you will just cease to be. Until then, you would be free to live as you please, free of any unasked interference from me, barring special circumstances. Do we have a deal? Time is wasting, you know." He smiled again briefly, and brushed a hand over her hair, claws digging lightly into her scalp.

Lupa hesitated, and then glanced at the pond. The current image was showing in painful detail what the Tevinter Templar who had drained her magic to stop her healing herself was doing to a helplessly bound and heartbreakingly unresponsive Fenris. "If it is the only chance to save him, I agree to your terms. Deal taken."

"So mote it be," the trickster smiled, holding out one clawed hand.

Lupa managed a wan smile. "Sure I can't get the 'this won't bite me in the butt until I die' thing in writing?" Fenharel arched an eyebrow, licking his lips before giving her one of those sharp toothed smiles. "No? Very well. So mote it be." She took his hand, and let the darkness swallow her.

* * *

><p>She lay on a rough blanketed bed; familiar voiced arguing in concerned tones. "Her spirit hasn't fled, but her magic is fighting mine. I don't know if I can save her, not unless she wakes up enough to drop her shields," Anders was saying. "Maybe Merrill could drop them for her?"<p>

"What happened to 'blood magic is irredeemably evil' and "Daisy's on a dangerous path'? Changed your mind pretty fast now that you need her help," Varric retorted.

"Do you want Hawke to die?" Anders snapped. "The little her magic is letting me do is barely keeping her heart beating. I removed the stake, but…. She shouldn't have this much magic after the Templar drained her anyways, not yet, not in her condition."

"None of us want to lose her, but if it is the maker's will to take her, then we can do nothing. Hawke would not be pleased if blood magic were used on her, even with good intentions," Sebastian put in, his tone soothing but worried.

"Hate to say it, but Choir Boy's right, Blondie. Hawke would throw a merry fit if she knew we tried using blood magic on her, even if it was Daisy doing it," Varric agreed resignedly.

"I'm surprised Anders isn't more afraid of what will happen to him when she does wake up, all things considered," Isabela chimed in, her voice unusually venomous.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Anders asked defensively.

"Given how you just sat there and let them drag off a certain broody elf of our acquaintance," the pirate continued. "In fact, you kicked him into their path and wished them luck."

"I was trying to save Hawke. He was in the way," Anders replied, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"You still could have done something! Anything! Set the magister's robes on fire, yelled for us to stop them, something! Hawke is going to kill you when she wakes up."

"Rivaini makes a good point, Blondie. Remember how Hawke got when the Templars tried to use him as a hostage? Remember how many pieces the people who threatened him ended up in? Multiply that by him not coming back and add a sense of betrayal." Varric snorted. "Suddenly glad I'm not you."

"Hawke will understand me trying to save her life," Anders tried again, attempting to keep a faint note of uncertainty out of his voice. "She's better off without that small minded, hypocritical feral dog hanging around anyway."

Belatedly he noticed the rogues all staring at a point directly behind him, heard the faint snarl as a mage lit fist swung around into his temple. He staggered, knees crumpling in a moment of dizziness, and found himself sprawled across the rough floor of Varric's suite. Hawke stood over him, hands clenched as lightning and frost danced over her knuckles, her eyes as cold and hard as chips of topaz. "You let them take him…" She hissed, her voice icily quiet with rage. "Why? Jealousy? Did you think I would turn to you, fall into your arms like some insipid twit in one of Varric's stories? Or was it just a misplaced method of getting me to toe the line of your mage revolution agenda?" He started to rise, and she reached for his throat with a hand that bore a new scar, a pawprint burned black into her palm, violent rage seething behind her eyes. He twitched back as the electricity brushed his skin, and she smiled faintly. "Give me one good reason not to kill you, not to rip through your windpipe and watch you choke, drowning in your own blood," she almost purred. "Give me one reason I don't want watch you die slowly as justice for what you did to my mate." He flinched, scrabbling at her arms as he gasped for breath.

Sebastian stepped forward. "Hawke, you do not wish to do this," he attempted to sooth the furious mage. Hawke looked up, the rage clearing slightly from her eyes, and she let Anders drop.

The blond healer crouched, rubbing the bruising skin at his collar. Hawke's robes hung open in tatters where the stake had pierced, the poultices fallen away during her rage to show unmarred skin. "You're healed? Even the scar from the Arishok's blade…" He blinked, looking up at her, an accusing note to his voice. "What deal did you make, to bring yourself back like this?" His brown eyes glowed blue briefly, as Justice came forward. "What demon did you sell yourself to, malificar?"

"No more a demon than the one you carry," she snarled, eyes not meeting his for a moment before looking up, eyes hard again. "I am neither possessed nor a blood mage. Beyond that, what I do is no longer your concern." She turned, throwing up her hands. "I don't have time to deal with you right now." He grabbed for her arm, and a fist made heavy contact with his groin. She snarled at him as he dropped again, and then looked at Isabela. "Do you know a smuggler's cove, eight days down the coast?"

The pirate thought, then nodded, glancing between her friend and the mage writhing into a fetal position at her feet. "What are you up to?" she asked, but Hawke just shook her head.

"I'll explain later, 'bela. Just meet me there, soon as you can. I'm… going an alternate route," She glanced around at the other rogues in Varric's suite. "And I don't think any of you could keep up."

Anders was struggling back to his feet, his face pale. Magic flared around Hawke, and a mabari sized wolf lunged at him, long, horribly white teeth bared. He fell back, cowering, and a long tongue lolled out in a silent canine laugh. She shook herself, long red auburn fur settling back into place before she bounded off, scrambling down the stairs. She slunk cautiously out of the city, following a lyrium laced scent line. Once clear of the cluttered tunnel of Darkktown, she fell into an endless lope, keeping her paws moving, and Fenris's scent in her sensitive nose. Hold on love, she thought, I'm on my way.

* * *

><p>and here we are again. bioware owns anything you recognize, so on and so forth. seven, eight, and an earlier bonus chapter await as rewards for people reviewing and letting me know people are actually reading this. read and enjoy.<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

new chapter brought to you so soon by swift reviews!

* * *

><p>She almost passed the campsite, the rough logs and dying embers uninteresting to the lupine instincts running through her head. But the scentline she followed pooled, the lyrium sweet scent of her mate shot through with the sour edges of fear, the bitter tones of pain and injury. She drank it in, measuring the time passed, how mixed the fading scent was with the unwashed male and rusty armor that was the soldiers. It would be a long run, she knew, they had days on her. The tracks spoke of too many to take at once even when she caught up. It would be an arduous hunt, and a dangerous one, she thought, even as she stalked through the campsite. There, on the large rock by the cliff, the over perfumed, blood tainted scent of the magister, who dared hunt her pack, hunt her mate. She snarled even as she made sure to mark that scent well in her mind. She would not stop hunting that one, who had dared to chain her mate before, tried to turn a wolf to a pet, and then set hunters on him when he slipped his leash. She would set him to running at her howl, teach him to fear the crunch of brush in the night, until the time was right, and her fangs could tear through his soft skinned throat. She would make him learn why only fools hunted a wolf in their own pack's territory.<p>

A stronger flicker of familiar scent wafted under her nose and she dug carefully at the edge of the dirt smothered embers. When the source lay exposed, she forced herself back to human, scent blind, near deaf, no fangs really at all, but two handed with thumbs, and carefully retrieved it. A badly singed, tattered, mud stained length of red silk, woven with all the enchantments befitting the robes of an uncaged mage. Lupa sat cradling her lovers token, fingers brushing over the worn sash reverently. He had taken it from her robes before she had awoken, she remembered, had kept it tied around his gauntlet like a lady's favor to a knight for three years know. Fenris would have fought to keep it if he was able, she realized, and shuddered at the thought of him unable to fight. The dread wolf had shown her, but she had not wanted to believe. She ran the fabric through her fingers one last time, before carefully binding it around her off wrist. She sank back to all fours as she shifted to wolf, feeling the instincts rise with the change.

Her hackles rose, and she spun on the interloper behind her, ready for battle. The large warhound whined appeasingly before dropping to his belly, tail tucked and ears back submissively. She raised her head, pricking up her ears as her fur settled and her tail rose like a warlord's banner. He was pack, her nose was telling her. Wolf, her mabari, some distant part of her mind identified, but it was unimportant. He was pack, and submitting to her lead. They would hunt the hunters together, and find her mate, and all would be as it should again when those who would harm her pack lay dead.

She licked reassuringly at the dog's ear, and then stretched. One more sniff at a patch of blood stained grass, one at the soothing mingling of her scent and her mates that the band around her foreleg exuded, and she dashed forward along the path before letting them both settle into a ground eating canine lope.

* * *

><p>Fenris slumped in his bonds, staring unblinkingly at the fire. Danarius had wasted no time in giving the more depraved of the mercenaries free rein over him, as long as he could still yanked be to his feet and dragged into a semblance of a walk the next morning. His throat burned, as much from thirst and prolonged screaming as the soldier's abuse. Without any real interest, he listened to last night's sentries arguing about something behind him. Apparently two of them had stepped out of the light at different points, and neither had returned. He glanced up from the embers as something heavy was dropped next to him. Evidently they found the missing sentries after all, albeit with their throats ripped out messily. Good, he thought dully, less to take turns at him come nightfall.<p>

The dead were thrown unceremoniously over the cliff, and the trek continued. With their number reduced, the soldiers seemed more concerned with discussing what could have killed their fellows and less with shoving him forward. The word mabari came up, momentarily catching his thoughts. It was possible, he mused. Lupa's mabari had liked him, and could have decided to follow him with his mistress dead. Dimly, through an awakened sense of loss, he hoped Wolf would have enough sense to stay out of sight.

That night, they set extra sentries, as Fenris lay firmly tied by the fire. The next morning, three of their swift dwindling number lay dead with fang marks in their throats. The few left marched in close formation around the mages and the slave, glancing nervously about. As the sun climbed, one soldier trailed behind, hoping for a convenient bush.

A flash of brown fur rushed out of the bushes, and the straggler hit the ground with a heavy thud, blood gushing from his throat. The others turned to confront the attack, and the animal vanished back into the underbrush. A more metallic thud and the snap of crunching bones erupted behind them as they started after the perceived threat, and they spun again. A huge wolf stood, shaggy red fur tangling in the breeze, jaws clenched around the neck of the Tevinter Templar, chewing on his spine. Fenris stared at the beast from his bound position in the center of the group. He had never seen a wolf that big, or with fur that color, in all his hunted travels. Yet somehow the creature seemed familiar, like he had been waiting for the sight of it. The wolf raised its head, snarling as blood dripped from its gleaming fangs. Danarius lifted his staff as the remaining trio of soldiers clustered, and the wolf bolted, disappearing into the thorny cover that bordered the path.

* * *

><p>They made camp in a more defensible position that night, in a small clearing just off the path. The three remaining soldiers took up nervous positions guarding the magister and his potential apprentice in the center, none of them willing to leave the circle of light cast by the blazing fire. As the twilight faded into darkness and a cold southern wind blew in, they grew unwilling to leave the range of the fire's warmth either. They stared fitfully into the growing shadows, alert for any sight or sound warning them of the large predator's approach. Fenris was securely bound to a scrubby tree outside the camp's perimeter. The rough bark dug into his back and rubbed his wrists where they were bound together above his head, abrading his aching shoulders as he flinched back from the chill wind.<p>

He watched the shadowed undergrowth with dull interest for any sign of the wolf. Out by himself, away from the fire, unable to flee or fight, he would be an easy target for a predator that size. Fenris sighed, unsure whether he cared. At least the soldiers' fear of the wolf meant they kept to the fire and away from him, even if it also meant him being tied out like bait or an offering. And the wolf had shown a tendency towards swift kills, which was likely more than he would be granted if he made it back to Minrathous. Danarius was certain to make an example of him, to prevent others from running as he had. He shook his head, managing to smack the back of his skull against the tree in the process. It was no more than he deserved, after leading the one woman, the one mage, he had ever loved, who had ever loved him, to her death on the filth strewn floor of a cheap tavern.

He saw the mages huddled near the fire out of the corner of his eyes, and pressed his head back against the tree, the bark and the edges of his collar digging into his skin. He wished Hadriana had never told him of his sister. He wished he had left well enough alone, hadn't tried to find her. Varania kept calling him Leto when she deigned to notice him, and the name brought nothing but disquiet. The sight of the red wolf had sparked more familiarity than what she kept telling him had been his name. Fenris sighed again, and wondered. When the wolf had launched itself out of the thick brush at the Templar's unguarded back, breaking his neck, he hadn't been afraid. The fact that that man had been the worst of the lot as well as the one who had kept Lupa from healing herself might have had something to do with that, but still… He had thought something like 'oh, there you are'. Like he had known the wolf would be there. Like he had known the wolf.

It was strangely like the odd thoughts he had had the first time he saw Lupa, back when she had still been just Hawke to him. Back when she had just been the odd mage who had helped him out and not given him a reason to want her dead. His eyes had sought hers, golden as the harvest moon, across the span of fallen slavers, and he had known she was the one that mattered among those that stood with her. Before she arranged herself in battle at his side with spinning staff and flashing magic. Before she healed him without pain, exerting herself as if as a matter of course. Before she had friended him in her own argumentative, stubborn, smart mouthed way, dragging and inviting him along everywhere as if he belonged. Before he had grown fond of her, and fondness had grown to more with every encounter, despite, or maybe because of, the little voice that said he deserved nothing of her, and because of, or maybe despite, the smaller voice that said at her side was precisely where he belonged. He tried futilely to curl further into himself, trying to forget the fact that her blood was still dried across his hands where she had reached for him, to shield himself from the cold wind that seemed to blow straight through him.

As the deep chill of an early spring night this far south sapped the fleeting warmth the day had promised, it felt like the iron collar bit into his skin, almost burning with cold. Fenris pressed harder against the tree, trading the increased dig into his bare skin for fractional shelter from the slicing wind, wishing they hadn't taken the long leather tunic he wore under his breastplate. Would that thin hide really have meant that much against them, bound as he was? The wind would have bitten through it still, and his locked collar would still be freezing against his neck, but it would be better not to have uncovered skin in this weather. This was likely the reason they had taken it while the mages snuggled into thick velvet robes and cloaks and the soldiers wore wool underneath and over their armor, as another way to remind him of his proper place. Oddly amused at his own thoughts, he started to chuckle, then coughed at the pain lancing through his chest. He really had to 'remember that broken or cracked ribs do not go well with humor or deep breathing' as…. As a golden eyed healer had put it once in his hearing. He coughed again, shivering, and tried to close his eyes, to attempt to rest. They would be on the move again come morn, no matter his condition, and inability to keep up would likely lead to more kicks to his ribs. Or possibly Danarius would give up on making an example of him and just strip the valuable lyrium from his flesh, hopefully after killing him.

He could hear the wind rustling the dried winter grass and underbrush, the twigs and branches above him scraping together, and the distant whisper of the wind itself sliding through the rocks of the coast. It was almost soothing, the noises he had heard wandering the coast with the others so many time before, hunting bandits or tal-valshoth or whatever the mission of the day had been. A twig snapped in the bushes, and he came alert again, studying the underbrush before him. That had not been the wind, and it had been close. The shrubs parted, quavering, and the wolf strode forward, fur shaken back sleek and dark in the shadows. It… She, he noted in passing, slunk along the edges of cover, eying him cautiously as she neared his tree. Another careful padding step towards him, her eyes bright and intent as they reflected the flares of light from the still glowing fire, and he shut his own, leaning his head back as far as he could to expose his throat. No reason to impede her and lengthen his own demise.

The short fur of her muzzle brushed below his jaw, a coldly damp nose whuffling along the collar before warm soft furry ears brushed across the bruise on his cheek. More warm fur pressed against his chest, and large stubby clawed paws braced along his legs. She nuzzled behind his ear, as if drinking in his scent, before carefully licking his cheek, a low whine rumbling from her throat. He opened his eyes, staring at the wolf, who stared back with eyes brightly gold in the firelight's glare. Across the clearing, the fire crackled, and one of the soldiers kicked at the logs in annoyance. A few heavy footfalls in his direction, and the wolf vanished from his side in a flash of dark fur.

"Must be cold out here alone, hmm, runaway?" The scraggly bearded soldier leered at the bound elf, who couldn't help a shiver. "Maybe if you're good, I'll think of something to help warm you up." Fenris flinched, and the man laughed, then began undoing his belt. He reached for Fenris's jaw with his free hand, and grinned. "Open wide and play very nice, runaway, and I'll try to remember oil this time." As a grimy thumb ran along his split lip, Fenris could see the wolf stepping almost silently back out of cover, eyes glowing in the firelight. The hand passed over where a canine tongue had caressed him as the thumb dug in, breaking the thin scab, and he bit, smiling fiercely when the hand withdrew. The soldier lashed out, bouncing the elf's head back against the tree before stepping back to examine the wound. "Futuo! Parum Bastardus." He swore, falling into Arcanum. "I'm going to make you wish you were dead!" His hand drew back for another blow, and Fenris braced.

But the blow never landed. The wolf launched herself from the shadows, sinking her fangs into an unguarded neck. The man toppled back under her weight, clawing futilely at her thick furred back as she worried at his throat. Finally, his thrashing stilled, and the red wolf carelessly shook the blood from her muzzle before regarding Fenris measuringly, her fur still ruffled and on edge. Her ears flicked back and forth alertly for a moment, then relaxed, and she stepped gingerly over the corpse. She walked around the tree, out of his sight, and he felt the sharp tugs on the binding ropes before they abruptly loosened and parted. He toppled forward, still bound wrists awkwardly catching his weight. Struggling to his feet, his head swam, and he braced against the tree, swaying heavily. Someone on two legs stepped around the tree, and hands reached for him, steadying him.

"Andraste's teeth, your skin is like ice!" A familiar voice hissed as the person staggered under his weight. Fenris's gaze shot up, meeting worried wolf gold eyes even as his legs gave way. "Damnation. I can't carry you… not like this."

* * *

><p>bioware owns anything you recognize.<p>

i used latin for any supposed arcanum the wiki didn't have a translation for. mea culpa. so i relied on google translate. the soldiers curse essentially translates to "Fuck! You little bastard."

I still have another chapter and a bonus story that falls between 4 and 5 to post, if i get reviews and messages as incentive...


	8. Chapter 8

Strength of the wolf, 8

Lupa winced as Fenris collapsed into her arms, giving her a clear view of the bruises and welts covering his back even as she staggered under his weight. She glanced worriedly over at the silent camp, then back at her mate. "maybe if I…" she whispered, then shifted back to wolf, ignoring the amount of mana it took to do so out of her depleted reserves. When she got him somewhere safe, she should really consider resting, and probably eat something, she thought, when her mate was safe. She levered herself under him, putting her head through his bound arms as she balanced him awkwardly over canine shoulders.

His weight as settled as she could manage, she took a cautious step back into the underbrush, ears swiveling to catch any sound of the camp's awakening. Then she took another, trying to minimize the number of thorns catching on his exposed skin while keeping her movement as silent as possible. Once out of earshot of the camp, she slipped onto a clearer path, and lengthened her stride, thinking to put more distance between the hunters and her wounded mate. She looped around, bounding over rocks and through streams to confuse her trail. The wind blew icily through her fur, and Fenris shivered on her back, clinging to her warmth in semiconscious desperation. She could smell his blood seeping from where a stray thorn had dragged along his side in an unwary movement, and whined. She needed to find a den, somewhere safe, somewhere to hide and rest and lick their wounds. The dog slunk closer from where he had been paralleling their path, leaving false trails for the hunters to follow. She whined again, panting as she thought, sides heaving from the exertion of carrying her mate while running. The dog abased himself, appeasing her before wagging his tail and sidling purposely towards a small gully.

She padded towards the rocks, smelling fresh flowing water, and behind it… tarred wood, oiled leather, and dust. She saw the small worn symbol carved into a flat rock, and her tongue lolled out in a canine laugh. It was one of Athenril's caches, one of the deep ones that could be used as a hideout on an emergency basis. It would be a good den, even if the sharp tempered elf had cleared it out in the years since Hawke had run with her pack. She counted the stones from the marker, and nosed her way through the brush concealing the entrance.

Fenris was sure it had to be a dream, one of warmth and safety and Lupa's golden eyes. Soft fur cushioned under him as living heat seeped up to his skin, as a brisk heartbeat drummed under his ear and taut muscles coiled and leaped beneath his face. It had to be a dream, and he cringed when the warm fur slid out from under him, and he dropped. He landed gently on a rough woolen blanket, and another was draped over his shivering shoulders. Behind him, he could hear crates and boxes rattling against each other as they were rummaged through, a familiar voice cursing and muttering wearily. Something crashed, and a pile of broken wood was arranged near him. A few moments and a few louder imprecations later, a small fire kindled, and the steady chill of the air began to recede.

Lupa crouched next to him, robes raggedly torn where the stake had impaled her. She pulled the knife from her belt with a black pawprint marked palm, and reached for his bound hands, slicing carefully through the coarse ropes wrapped tightly around his wrists. She hissed as she saw the rubbed raw flesh under the ropes, oozing blood from small open wounds. "Maker's mercy," she swore, and threw the bloodstained cords onto the fire.

Wasn't there a saying that pain would wake you up from a dream? he could feel the circulation returning to his abraded wrists, smell the smoke from the fire. He could even see the grains of sand sticking to the dirtstained bare feet she crouched on. He blinked uncertainly, hope rising against the despair that had swallowed him, and reached an incredulous hand up to her face. "Lupa?" he whispered, his voice a raspy croak, the sound burning in his ravaged throat.

"Hush. Hush love, I'm here." She ran her fingers over the back of the hand resting on her cheek, then extend toward the bleeding lines on his wrist. Blue white light flickered over her fingers, dying seconds later. "Damnation", she sighed, then started tearing strips from the rips in her robes. "I don't have the energy left to heal, so we'll have to do things the other way for a while. At least until I remember where Athenril kept the lyrium stash." She gently bandaged his wrists in the soft fabric, frowningwhen she noticed the shallow, careful breaths he took. "Hold still," she absently instructed, then ran a hand over his chest, the dimmest possible light playing under her palm. "A few broken ribs and several more cracked. And the jostling you got on the way here didn't help, sorry. On the bright side, none of the jagged edges are poking at your lungs." She handed him a small waterskin as she rose. "I need to find something to bandage your ribs with and some elfroot, I'll be back in a few minutes. A little water should help your throat."

He took the container without looking at it, green eyes fixed on her, drinking her in as she rose, going out of sight to rummage around audibly in various crates, boxes and bags. She lived, he thought in a second of near delirious happiness. She lived and had come after him, had rescued him when he had no hope left. He could forgive Anders the kicks and curses in a heartbeat, if the warden had saved his Lupa. He leaned closer to the fire as he listened to her search around the corner.

Wolf padded inside, the mabari looking exceedingly pleased with himself as he dropped a pair of fresh killed rabbits near the fire. He shook himself, careful to avoid dampening the small blaze, before curling around Fenris like a warm, if damp and wet-dog-smelling, living backrest. The elf rubbed at the dog's ears, and leaned back, finally sipping at the water. The parched membranes of his mouth soothed with the cool liquid, and he gulped more, forgetting caution as he poured the entirety of the waterskin down his aching throat. He regretted it a moment later, when the cold water contacted his tender, already unsettled stomach. He coughed, his ribs screaming pain in protest, before falling to hands and knees on the blanket, retching violently as his stomach churned and twisted.

He heard a distant scrambling noise, like boxes overturning, and Wolf's worried whine, as his arms trembled from trying to hold up his own weight. Then Lupa was back at his side, pulling the rough cut edges of his hair away from his sweat beaded face, supporting him enough to keep him from going face first into his own mess. Once his heaving belly had emptied and the dry retches had ceased, she gently maneuvered him over to the other side of the fire, where the mabari had already dragged the blanket he hadn't soiled. Wolf positioned himself as a backrest again, licking at his hand comfortingly.

Lupa vanished briefly after carefully covering him with a new blanket, dragging the dirty blanket carefully into the depths of the cave. She returned shortly, and wiped almost apologetically at his face with a damp cloth. "Sorry," she whispered, running a dim glowing hand over his head. "If I wasn't being such an idiot right now, I would have checked your skull first. I saw that savage bounce your head off that tree, and you have a muddy boot print dried into your hair." She sighed, smiling wryly. "Your skull is cracked in two places, which amply explains your nausea. There doesn't seem to be any intercranial swelling or bleeding, luckily, although you have a splendid goose egg and a nice cut along the back of your head. And almost certainly a demon of a headache." She sat next to him and lifted a ceramic flask to his lips. "Sip carefully," she instructed, "It should deal with the nausea and the worst of the pain."

He swallowed the scant mouthful she allowed; and another after one of her worriedly measuring glances; leaning wearily back against the dog when she pulled back. The potion tasted of elfroot and spindleweed, and he could feel it starting to work. She reached for a coil of loose woven bandages, and began binding his chest to protect his ribs. "Any other pains or problems I should check? Broken bones, stab wounds, anything obvious I'm missing?" She asked, and he flinched involuntarily, pulling fractionally back from her hands. She blinked, first confusion, dawning comprehension, and then a violent anger flitting through her eyes. " And if I could kill them eternally, each slower than the last, they would still die too soon for my liking," she whispered, then tried to give him a soothing smile. "Anything that needs to be dealt with immediately or can be fixed without magic or miracles?" she rephrased, and he shook his head, giving her a ghost of a smile. "Well then, I just need to keep you awake long enough to make completely sure the knocks on the head haven't done permanent damage. Although, seeing as it's you, I'm not sure how I'd tell," she deadpanned, laughing when he responded with a rude gesture. "Sense of humor mostly intact, a small miracle in and of itself," she noted, and smiled.

When he smiled back, however pained, she rose from his side, tying off the bandages. He took a testing breath, and relaxed, pulling the top blanket further over his shoulders as she went about the business of turning dead rabbits into food. A pot was procured from a hidden corner, and suspended makeshiftly over the fire, filled with heating water as she started cleaning and slicing the rabbits. Wolf whined, and she tossed him the scraps with a snort. "Like you didn't catch a third and eat it before you caught up," she rebuked mildly, and the dog buried his face under one massive paw for a moment. "oh, you thought I didn't know? If I could get you to clean the rabbits yourself, I would." He whined and shifted, holding his paw out as if for inspection. "Yes, I'm quite aware of your lack of opposable thumbs. Hence why I'm sitting here cleaning your kills. Go fetch that other pot and the sack of grain from the corner." The mabari carefully moved out from behind Fenris, then whined again. "Because humans and elves need to eat more than meat, or rabbit broth with extra rabbit chunks in this case. No, I don't have enough magic left to remedy that right now, no matter how much fun you had hunting together. And Fenris still couldn't." She maneuvered the makeshift construction holding the one pot enough to make it hold two over the fire, and resumed dealing with ingredients. Wolf resettled himself by the fire, head on his paws. "And don't get too attached to the fire. We can't risk it once the sun comes up and the smoke would be visible. We wouldn't have it now if I had enough energy to keep the cave warm enough and cook the food with other methods."

Sometime later, Fenris found himself being handed a bowl of steaming broth, Lupa's hand brushing gently over his forehead. "Here, drink this, and then we'll see if you can keep down porridge before we try actual meat chunks." He devoured what was set before him, the unsettledness in his stomach seeming to have disappeared.

"Thank you," he whispered, reaching up to catch her hand before she could pull back. , He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, feeling the pulse fluttering reassuringly under his touch. "When you fell… When they took me… I thought you were… I…" he tried to speak of the fear and despair that had drowned his soul, but only pulled her closer, pressing his face into her shoulder.

"It's okay, I'm here now, I'm alive," she murmured into his hair, wrapping her arms around him as he dug his fingers into the tatters of her robes. Lupa awkwardly pulled the blanket over both of them, curling around him comfortingly. "I swear, nothing will take me from you but your own will, not while I draw breath," She promised, and carded one hand through his hair. Fenris relaxed into her embrace, listening to her heart beating, to the quiet lullaby she crooned. Wolf stretched, nosing the pile of empty bowls out of his way before sprawling at their feet, head up and ears alert to any sound of threat.


	9. Chapter 9

reviews show up, and i post more. fun fact.

* * *

><p>Fenris dreamed of Tevinter and hot northern sunlight, feeling skin against his own, bindings wrapped against him and arms restraining him. He fought against it, thrashing, trying to free himself. His chest ached like he was drowning, his head throbbed. His hands lashed out, and caught unprotected flesh, drawing a yelp from his unseen captor. The skin against his withdrew, icy air drafting in to replace it. He shivered in his nightmare, one hand reaching up to curl around the metal of his collar. A cold nose pressed against his fingers, nudging them away from the rough edged metal, and he reached out to feel soft fur under his searching fingers. A long tongue bathed his palm, before swiping at his cheek, and his struggles calmed. He pulled himself against warm fur, felt a blanket tugged back over him, and sank into an easier rest.<p>

He woke to the golden light of early morning, a worried looking mabari at his side, his head resting on the soft furred flank of a very large wolf. At his startled gasp, the wolf stirred, lifting a dark auburn head to look at him, golden eyes blinking sleepily. He sat up, and the wolf rose, stretching out and yawning dramatically before sitting, regarding him with a watchful gaze. Fenris coughed, the motion hurting both his ribs and his throat, and felt magic flare around the wolf, blurring her form back into the mage he knew. "So it wasn't a dream…" he wondered, his voice rasping painfully, and she smiled sadly as she stepped to his side. "How did you…"

"Hush..." she soothed, brushing a hand over his hair, fingers flaring with healing energy. "Wait until I have you healed, then talk." The dull throbbing in his head faded to nothing, and he could feel the swollen bruises melt away, feel his skull mend itself under her gentle fingers. Her hand ran over his neck, under his collar, and that ache too was gone. Those hands slid over his skin, nimbly avoiding the lyrium brands while pushing healing energy through his flesh. They lingered over his chest, knitting the broken parts of his ribs back together, repairing the spots where broken edges had dug into muscle or flesh. She ran them lightly over his abraded wrist, tugging off the makeshift wrappings, then tentatively laid her hands on his thighs. Her forehead rested against his, and her magic flared brighter after that, seeking out and trying to put right what he could not speak of to her, what he did not want to think about now that he was here and not there. "I… I should have been faster," she whispered, as her magic faded from around them. "I'm sorry. I tried. I…"

He caught her wrist as her fingernails dug into her marked palm, about to respond, but ended up eying the fresh, livid bruises, fingermarks imprinted darkly along her arms. "Were those my doing?" He asked, remorseful, and she flinched slightly, and then shrugged, tugging her arm back out of his grasp.

"If I had gotten to you faster, perhaps your nightmares would not be so bad," she answered, a sharp edge to her voice. As if hearing herself, she sighed, and offered an apologetic smile, sliding one hand under the iron collar he still wore. "Let's see if I can get this back off of you, shall we?" she suggested in a brighter tone, not meeting his eyes. "If I could melt the catch without heating the rest of it too much," she mused, using her hand to shield his skin while her magic worked. Fenris felt the metal slowly heat around his neck, and heard the latch pop open seconds before the increasing heat would have become full-fledged pain. The heavy iron fell to the blanket, and he flung it at the far wall before looking at the mage kneeling before him, the bruises fading from her arm as she healed herself. She looked up at the clang of metal against stone, running a hand over the bruise on his cheek, watching it fade away. "I should have been faster," she murmured again, a broken edge to her voice, her hands shaking.

"You came for me. That is all that matters," Fenris told her, catching her hand in his, cradling it against his cheek.

"Is it?" she asked, her voice distant, troubled, her eyes unreadable. She flexed her fingers in his grasp, twining them with his before running her thumb over his cheekbone, feeling him lean ever so slightly into her touch. She shook her head, suddenly unwilling to meet his eyes. "I don't deserve you. I never have. I would have died in the deep roads, or worse, without you. Without you, I would never have known how to deal with the qunari, how to gain their respect, and they would have just taken Isabela, killed anyone in their way. Without you, the demons Quentin summoned would have overrun me before I could put a shield up, and my mother would be unavenged." She pulled her hand from him, fidgeting with something just under her sleeve. "I'm just an apostate who got lucky, too wild to submit to rules that are probably there for my own good, too stupid to know when to quit, to just cut and run. And you? You're perfectly, uniquely you. You're the strongest person I have ever known, and you're smart; you picked up reading really fast, even with my inept teaching methods, you speak at least three languages I know of, and sometimes you talk like you're in a book, when you say stuff like 'I will endeavor to exist with less offense'. Carver used to bug me at home to ask what the longer words you used meant." She sniffled a little, staring at the floor. "And you're always there when I need you. Me? I'm just another mage."

Fenris blinked at her, trying to process what she had just told him. Then he reached out, tilting her head up, making her look at him, one hand under her chin, thumb running along her jaw. "Festis bei umo canavarum," he muttered, and glanced briefly upwards as if in prayer before resettling his gaze on hers. "Hawke… Lupa. You are you. That is enough, and more."

She smiled up at him with that , golden eyes suspiciously bright. She tugged at whatever she had been fidgeting with, and suddenly looped a tattered length of singed red silk around his wrist. "I saved what was left of it for you. If you'd like, when we get home, I'll cut you a new length."

Fenris brushed his fingers over the sash almost reverently before rewrapping it and tying it in a familiar pattern. It felt somehow more right, more important, against his skin, without the metal of his gauntlets as a buffer. He reached out, running his fingers over the tattoos on her cheeks. Something flickered in her eyes at the brush of his nails on her skin, but was gone in an instant. "Hawke… I…" he started, but was interrupted by a loud growl from his stomach.

"I'll go heat up what's left from last night," Lupa smiled, even as she pulled back. "We can't risk a fire during the day, they might see the smoke, but I have ways." She held up a hand flickering with flames to demonstrate. "There's a stream right outside. It's sheltered enough you should be able to wash up without being seen. It's probably ice cold, though, so be careful." She shooed him gently outside as she focused on heating the pots of food, Wolf following at his heels.

She had not been joking about the likely temperature of the stream, Fenris noted, restraining a yelp as he stepped off the shore into thigh deep water, suddenly surprised he couldn't see ice at the edges. He decided a few moments later that he was getting used to it, or at least going numb, and started scrubbing the last traces of her blood off his hands, out from under his nails. It was amazing the sheer difference the chance to get clean again granted, he mused, even as he shivered through another dunking rinse. Perhaps with the visible stains of his… ordeal gone, he would sleep better tonight, or at least not wake to find he had taken out his dream on his mage. She should not have to escape to another form to keep him from hurting her.

Although that did beg a question that had been lurking in his mind since it had become clear this was no dream. How had she learned a trick considered a lost art even among the magisters of Tevinter? It was said that some few dalish keepers retained the art, and he had seen the ancient witch become a dragon on the top of Sundermount years ago, but… He would ask her, he decided. His Lupa would not have turned to a demon for such power, she always held strong, she would not have faltered, not over something so trivial. He would ask her. She had never lied to him. The thought of his promise, made years before as he held a crying mage in his arms, flitted through his mind, and he shivered with more than cold.

If she had fallen… Maker help him. Creators help him. Could he kill the woman he knew he loved, even for a promise she had begged from him? He had felt what it was like to believe her gone, could he endure life knowing he had taken hers, after some fate had given him this second chance? He scrubbed again at the places where her blood had been dried against his palms, as if the thought of enacting his promise had stained them anew. If she had fallen… She wouldn't have. Anders had healed her, as the annoying blonde had been trying to when they dragged him off. She had probably learned the shifting trick from that dratted bloodmage's book, he had seen how interested she was in dalish lore. She would not have fallen to a demon, and he was fretting himself over nothing.

He dragged himself shivering out of the water, and hurried back to the cave. Lupa was crouched before a bubbling pot of porridge, her back to him and her focus entirely on the magic heating the food. Blue fire flickered in the palm of one outstretched hand, mimicking the motions of the light underneath the metal. He stepped closer, watching her undivided focus on the spell with something that felt remarkably like amusement. He stood behind her for a long moment, as his hair dripped, his freezing, soaked, and unclothed state forgotten. A sudden thought occurred to him, given how charmingly oblivious she was to his return.

He smiled at the dog, who backed away, then stepped right behind her, close enough to feel the warmth she exuded, before shaking the excess water from his hair with all the enthusiasm generally attributed to his namesakes.

Lupa squealed when the icy water hit her, dropping the spell in a flare of fire before spinning to lunge at the culprit. Fenris laughed at the look on her face, even as he caught her wrists and pulled her close to warm himself up. "You are freezing!" she squeaked, before succumbing to laughter herself. He released her arms, only to feel them thrown around his neck, pulling him down into a soft kiss. He found himself with his own hands laced around the back of her neck, buried under the warmth of her hair, their faces pressed together even after their lips parted. He stared into her eyes, finding nothing but the mage he loved in the unguardedly warm golden gaze. Fenris smiled at her, and she snuggled closer into his arms, softly curved heat against his admittedly chilled, damp skin. He spared one arm to snag a blanket and pull it close around their shoulders, sliding back against the stone wall to sit with her across his lap. Lupa nuzzled his neck, and grinned almost dizzily up at him. "You have a really nice laugh, and a gorgeous smile. Some days, I feel like I would do almost anything, just to make you happy, to see that smile, to hear the way you laugh. "

"A gorgeous smile?" he asked her, even as she began carding her fingers through his hair, the magic heat steadily drying the still dripping strands. "Are you sure you haven't gotten into lyrium wine again?"

"No lyrium wine. No lyrium either, at least not in a consumable form. I think Athenril cleared out the lyrium stash here after I stopped working with her. No reason to keep it, I guess, she never really took on another mage on any more than a job by job basis after I left. Apparently, most of them were idiots, and the rest couldn't handle dealing with her," She shrugged, and shifted position to warm more of him up.

"I admit I only met the smuggler briefly, but I rather liked her. And she seemed fond of you, as much as of anyone." Fenris leaned back, relaxing into the steady, light tugs of her fingers in his hair, the chill in his skin vanishing from the warm female in his arms.

"She would have been nice to you. She's almost never rude to other elves. I could tell you about the times she made Carver cry. Athenril did not like Carver, not that I blame her given what he called her that one time, but still. Her term of endearment for me was usually 'doglord shem bitch'. Occasionally modified to 'my favorite shem bitch', usually when I had been particularily useful that day. Sad thing is, you're right, she was fond of me, as her regard for humans went." She nuzzled at his neck again, and sighed happily.

"Your departure from her employ does make more sense, with certain facts accounted for." He ran his hands down over her robed back, hesitating at the tattered edges where the stake had pierced her. His hands were still cold enough to easily feel the heat rising off her exposed skin, and he toyed with the idea of burying his hands between robe and skin. She squeaked as cold fingers brushed the small of her back, and leaned into him as they slid tentatively lower. "Are you still sure you haven't managed to get drunk?"

"I think I'd have noticed. I'm not joking about your smile, Fenris. You don't show it very often but its like the sun coming out from behind the clouds on a dark day; like the first spring day after a long winter; it's worth the wait, worth striving to see." She leaned back, trying to read the look on his face, and sighed. "If it would make you smile more, help you be happy, I would do anything."

"Anything?" he asked, then shook his head, pulling his hands from her back to cup her face, staring into her eyes. "That could be a very dangerous thing to say, Hawke. Do not offer promises you do not mean to keep," he warned, finding the odd look in her eyes very worrisome. He shook his head. "Say you'll tell me how you turned into a wolf, and I will forget you said that."

"Who said anything about not meaning to keep it? If you asked it of me, in the name of your happiness, I would lock myself into a cell at the Gallows. Ask it of me, of your own free will, say you cannot deal with my magic any longer, and I would let Meredith turn me Tranquil. Anything, if it can be done without harming innocents, I would do for you, for one unguarded smile, one moment of joy." She sat at his feet, still looking up with that odd expression.

* * *

><p>sigh. my poor broken mage. poor fenris. they really don't know how to quite deal with each other.<p>

review, and chapter ten could arrive as soon as tomorrow morning!

Reviews make me happy. happy writers write more. if i write more, i could end up posting every time someone reviews!


	10. Chapter 10

okay. i'm only going to post when the next chapter is ready. of course, given how hard my muse is riding me lately...that could be pretty soon

* * *

><p>"Anything?" he asked, and then shook his head, pulling his hands from her back to cup her face, staring into her eyes. "That could be a very dangerous thing to say, Hawke. Do not offer promises you do not mean to keep," he warned, finding the odd look in her eyes very worrisome. He shook his head. "Say you'll tell me how you turned into a wolf, and I will forget you said that."<p>

"Who said anything about not meaning to keep it? If you asked it of me, in the name of your happiness, I would lock myself into a cell at the Gallows. Ask it of me, of your own free will, say you cannot deal with my magic any longer, and I would let Meredith turn me Tranquil. Anything, if it can be done without harming innocents, I would do for you, for one unguarded smile, one moment of joy." She sat at his feet, still looking up with that odd expression.

"Do not say that." He whispered, and rose, pulling her to her feet. "Don't look at me like that. Why must you say this?"

"You once asked me what my weakness was, what the one thing I would trade anything for was. Every mage has one, you told me. I told you I didn't know. Now I do. To keep you safe, happy, free, I would do anything, trade anything. I was dead on that floor, Fenris. My soul was on a path in the fade by the time they grabbed you. I found no Maker's light, no peace, only the Dread wolf telling me what would happen to you, showing me what was already happening to you. I was given a choice, pay his price to come back with the power to have a chance of saving you, or wait to see if Anders could save me or if I would pass on, knowing your fate, the misery they would make you live in." She raised her hand, palm up, displaying the black pawprint burned into the skin. "This is the mark he left when I took the deal. All my other scars were gone when I awoke. I always loved you, Fenris. I still do, and I could not have made a different choice, not with what I was shown. I don't believe I am possessed, I certainly didn't agree to if I am, I haven't taken up blood magic, and I don't think I'm necessarily a danger to innocents. Decide what you must do, and then ask of me what you will."

Fenris shook his head, running his hand back through his hair. She was still standing there, just looking at him. "Why did you tell me this?" he asked, voice plaintive. He turned from her, "Why would you… I'm not…." He slammed his fist into unyielding stone, then sank down onto the blanket. "I can't… Don't just look at me like that! Get out of my sight, just…" He curled into a ball, and felt rough fur against his back. "I said…" he turned, to see a sorrowful eyed mabari standing next to him. He looked around, but saw only the still steaming pots of food, bowls and spoons sitting ready next to them. His leggings were folded near the other blankets, and her knife was sitting on top of them, sheathed.

Large pawprints ran out of the puddle on the floor, out the sheltered exit of the cave. Fenris shook his head, and dressed before seating himself. He sat there, watching the cave mouth, one hand rubbing at the dog's head on his lap. About the time it started raining again, his stomach reminded him he hadn't eaten yet that day, and he dished out now cold food for himself and Wolf. He lay back in his blanket, Wolf still pressed tightly to his side, running one hand repetitively over the dog's back. His other arm was pressed to his face, red wrapped wrist across his eyes, listening to the rain drumming over the cave roof like a quickening heartbeat.

* * *

><p>It was nearing dark when he awoke, thrashing badly enough to kick over what was left of his bowl, his foot sliding on spilled gruel. He muttered, and looked around for the dog. Wolf was happily digging into a brace of rabbits, set neatly near a rebuilt fire and heating pots. And there was a large pack sitting next to the entrance, of the sort the soldiers had been carrying. Fenris carefully examined it, finding bloodstains, scorch marks, and substantial teeth marks in the carry strap. And a note, set on top of it all.<p>

_**One hopes you find this useful. I tried not to let it get too wet**_.

Fenris frowned, shaking his head before opening the pack. He saw the pommel of a familiar sword, wrapped in the folds of familiar black leather. Under that, he could see the edges of his breastplate, and what looked to be a woolen cloak.

Armed and armored, protected against the weather, Fenris stood by the door, staring out into the rain. A quiet whine came from the semi sheltered brush just past the entrance, and he watched as a sodden wolf rose shakily, extricating herself from the thorny thicket before staring at him. She met his gaze briefly, her ears pinned nervously back, and started to cower, tail tucked along her belly. He watched her a moment longer, and sighed. "You might as well come back in," he offered, and she slunk in at his heels, limping noticeably. Fenris reached out, almost touching the large burn that covered her flank. "What happened?" he asked, and the wolf crouched, trembling. Wolf strode forward, nudging her closer to the fire, and she almost snaps at him, before pressing herself lower to the ground. Fenris sat next to her, and tried to run his hand over her head. "Hawke," he murmured, "Lupa," and she pressed her muzzle up into his fingers. The flare of magic around her was dim, uncertain. Yet when it faded, his mage crouched at his feet, leaning her head into his hand.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, swords slice along her shoulder he hadn't seen under her fur slowly dripping blood onto his bare feet.

"Hawke… Venhedis! Heal yourself!" Fenris hissed, shaking her when she only blinked at him.

"Why? Did I forget something?" she asked, even as she stretched, and closed the wound with a flare of magic, then slowly regrew the skin over her thigh. "I guess I'm mobile again, what did I forget to grab?" she wondered, taking stock of his equipment before sighing. "Oh, your gauntlets. I'm sorry, I'll go back."

Fenris grabbed for her, pulling her close before she could fall back into the wolf's shape. "Festis bei umo canavarum," he sighed. "Do you remember the promise you made me make, after your mother's death?"

"Of course. I've never forgotten it, especially when I woke in the fade." She sighed, and sat again. "I knew what might happen because of it when I made the deal, Fenris. To be honest, I thought you killing me as soon as you found out was the reason it was offered. I only came back because you needed me. My heart is entirely yours, any way you want it."

"Is this a game to you, to make me kill you now?" he growled, markings beginning to glow. "Now, when I have realized…"

"That's why I was going to go back and get your gauntlets, so maybe they would end up…" Lupa shook her head. "Why does it matter? I'm just a mage. It's not like you're actually in lo…" she suddenly saw the look in his eyes, and froze. "Oh. Well, shit."

"Why did you think I kept this, then?" he asked, almost pleading, even as his brands went brighter. "Why did you think I stayed?"

"How was I supposed to know?" she nearly screamed at him, then started sobbing. "You never talked to me about it, Isabela flirts with me more than you do, and we haven't been acting like anything but good friends. You told Anders we were through, so I've had to deal with his attempts to flirt, when all I wanted was you. The night we got drunk on your roof, I made myself sick for days with that stuff trying to get up courage, pretty much threw myself at you, and we still woke up fully damn clothed! I thought I told you I loved you then, but come morning, it was relegated as far to the list of shall not be mentioned as the original night. Which as far as I knew, judging by how fast you left, meant nothing to you in the first place. Some attempt of yours to pacify the little mage who won't go away. I wanted you, felt like I knew you, since that first night, it was like some little voice in my head said 'oh, there he is'" She slumped brokenly to the floor, staring up at him. "Did you really think I was cruel enough to demand that someone I knew to be in love with me be in charge of killing me? I just… fuck. I'm not worth this. Everyone around me dies, remember?"

With a swift motion, Fenris pinned her against the stone, his brands flaring bright. "Vos vultis me occidere?" he snarled, even as he brushed his fingers lightly over her face. "Non ergo magis debet facere. In vel nobis." Lupa went limp, closing her eyes, and the hand reached into her chest. "Contristatus sum, amica mea" he whispered, and his fingers flexed around her heart.

* * *

><p>As usual, all non-game quotes Arcanum is Latin by way of Google translate. More or less, he said do you want me to kill you? then do not make this harder than it must be. on either of us. I am so sorry, my love.<p>

* * *

><p>this was one of the story was writing itself under my fingers and going way off my notes times. i didn't plan this, (at least not it happening so early) so don't hurt me. i can't post 11 if i'm hurt. blame the plotbunnies, or my muse. multiple reviews mght encourage me to finish 12 so you can see 11 sooner...<p> 


	11. Chapter 11

thank you so much to everyone who reviewed.

* * *

><p>She screamed when his fingers flexed, brushing almost gently against the beating muscle of her heart, and collapsed sobbing into his arms as he pulled back. "A demon would have struck out, protected itself. You are not possessed," He whispered, gathering her up into his arms.<p>

She was still limp against him, her breathing ragged. "You didn't kill me. I thought… the promise…" Her voice was dazed, confused, and she ran her fingers over his arms where he held her, as if trying to convince herself he was real.

"You are not demon taken, not fallen. You are still you, I do not need to kill you." He cradled her close against his armored chest, watching the uneven rise and fall of her chest with a mix of worry and guilt. "Contristatus sum, amica mea. I am sorry, so sorry, to have put you through that. Perhaps I should have trusted you when you told me you were not possessed, but…"

She snorted weakly, then coughed. "I wouldn't have trusted me, Fen. Anders didn't trust me, not after he saw my scars were gone. I didn't expect you to believe." She coughed again, and then brushed her fingers up his face. She pressed her marked palm against his cheek, and looked up at him with a wondering expression. "I expected to die, from the moment I woke up again. To be alive, to know I am still myself, to know you know I am still myself… I wasn't entirely sure. I came so close to killing Anders before I went after you." She clung to him, not wanting to lose the fragile comfort of his embrace. In the back of her mind, the wolf instincts that had driven her to cower before an angered mate still whispered, wondering if she was again part of the pack. She coughed again, and winced.

"You are in pain. I am…" She laid a finger over his lips, silencing his self-recriminations.

"I forced your hand. I'm the one who should say sorry, especially since I'm the one who came up with that damn promise in the first place. The pain will fade. It's already started to." She coughed again. "Remind me, if I go mad and oh, I don't know, slaughter Anders in some horrific manner, I want to get killed with a sharp object and not your trick. That hurts, even when I expected it."

"If you are killing the abomination, why would I even be trying to stop you?" Fenris asked, and smiled faintly when she chuckled quietly. "I've nearly killed him a few times myself, amica mea, if you remember. I cannot swear I will not try to kill him when we return, if he does not have the benefit of having saved your life." Fenris leaned back against the wall, letting her curl across his lap, head on his shoulder. "If he speaks one wrong word to me, I might not be able to restrain my temper."

"He's more likely to start on me when we see him. He was calling me malificar last time we spoke, right before I hit him. Admittedly, I did threaten to 'rip through his windpipe and watch him choke, drowning in his own blood' a few minutes before that. And then I nearly lashed out at Sebastian for trying to stop me, for getting in my way. I didn't, but it was a near thing, and… even Isabela looked a little scared of me then," she sighed, and tilted her head a little to regard him better.

"I would have enjoyed hearing you tell him that. It sounds like something I would want to say. If he calls you malificar in my presence, I will almost certainly do more than hit him. I am glad you didn't harm Sebastian. He is a good friend, and I do not have many. It's not like you have taken to slaughtering innocents, correct?"

"No, just Tevinter soldiers, though I will admit the whole ripping throats thing out is overrated, especially when you can still taste them when you shift back. And I took a chunk out of Danarius's calf today before he set my tail on fire, but I was pretty sure you'd be okay with that." She could feel the sudden burst of laughter rumbling through his chest, and smiled up at him.

"I think I must treasure that image. Not you on fire, but him bleeding with a wolf's fangs in his legs." He smiled for a moment, before running a hand over her hair. "I should never have left you."

"It wasn't your fault," Lupa started, but he shook his head, staring at the small fire flickering past the mabari still watching them warily.

"Not this time. The night we do not speak of, the first one. I still remember your touch as if it were yesterday. I have regretted leaving like that for years. If I could go back, I would stay, tell you how I felt."

She shifted against him, looking up into his eyes. "And what would you have said?" she asked, golden gaze bright with curiosity.

"Nothing could be worse than living without you." He whispered, and she pulled herself closer against him, pressed her lips against his.

"I love you, Fenris. Nothing will take you from me but your own will, not while I draw breath. So if you can bear loving a potential malificar…"

"You are not malificar, amica mea. You kill none who have not earned their fate, you harbor no demon, and you use no blood magic. You are my love, and I will stand by you, whatever the others say. I know the truth of you, and if there is a future to be had, I will walk into it gladly at your side. No matter how certain I am that you will be the death of me."

"I'll try not to be. Thanks for, well, not killing me. And making sure I wasn't a demon. Let's try to never do that again." She stretched, and gingerly extended healing energy back over her shoulder and back, fixing her lackluster earlier attempt before settling her head back against his shoulder. This time her cheek bumped into his breastplate, and she sighed before blinking up at him, her eyes suddenly alight with mischief. "Blood mages aren't generally good at healing, right?"

"Not in my experience, no. Not really. Why?" Fenris asked, fingers still running restlessly through her hair.

"So a certain magister is probably still limping, with his only remaining backup one wounded soldier and an apprentice who set her own robes on fire with a misplaced lightning bolt earlier and still hasn't figured out how to swing my staff without tripping over it. And all of them are jumping at any noise in the brush. This seems like an exploitable situation to me. Given we are more or less in fighting shape…" She grinned up at him with a very wolfish smile.

Fenris went quiet, looking thoughtful for a brief moment before smiling back in almost the same manner. "How much energy do you have left?" he asked, already rising. Lupa stood as well, stretching as she straightened out the tatters of her robes.

She leaned in against him, and playfully brushed a lightly glowing hand across the marks on his arms. "As much as I need to, love," she laughed, her other hand pulling a handful of lyrium vials briefly out of an inner pocket. "I swiped their stash while I was looking for the bag with your stuff in it. At the time I was more concerned with them not having it than my having it, but more recent events being what they were…" Fenris reached for her as her touch lit up his markings, tilting her face up to kiss her hungrily. Her hands skimmed over his skin, fingers tightening on his sleeves as she kissed him back enthusiastically. When they pulled back for air she smiled almost dreamily. "Of course, that situation would likely remain just as exploitable for a bit longer, and if we wait for full dark, we'd have the advantage of cover."

"That sounds like an excellent plan, amica mea," He smiled at her, running a glowing hand along the ripped midriff of her robes, watching her face as his markings brushed the magic just under her skin. Her eyes fluttered, and the magic at her hands pulsed, even as they slid back from his sleeves to fight with the buckles of his breastplate. He pushed her back against the stone wall, dragging her into another deep kiss, and undid the buckles himself with a practiced hand. The metal armor clanged heavily against the floor, and he started to swipe at the looped ties that held his tunic. A second set of hands started from the other end, shaking as his mouth and free hand wandered. When the leather hung open and her hands slid across his torso, he shuddered at the pleasure of the magic, her magic skimming along his skin, sending the lyrium into humming pulses.

He braced his forearms along the wall, trying to remember why he had given this up, as she kissed along his jaw, licked over the length of his pointed ear. Then her tongue ran down the markings covering his chest, dipping into his belly button, and he forgot his line of thought entirely. Her hands were working at the lacing of his leggings, and he looked down, to find her kneeling at his feet, her cheek pressed against his freed length as she looked up at him, a question in her eyes.

"You do not need to…" he started, a sudden thought of himself from a few days before running through his mind. Her fingers ran over him, the faintest flare of magic following them, and she nuzzled the hollow of his hip.

"And if I want to?" she asked, her smile going sad as he looked at her with something approaching confusion. She ran gentle fingers over him again, comfortingly. "It does not have to be as you think, love. Have you ever been the one being pleasured?" He stared down at her, unsure of how to reply, and she licked along his length. He groaned, letting more of his weight rest on his arms against the wall. "I didn't get to taste you last time. Consider it repayment," she continued, and kissed her way back along the other side. He tasted even more like lyrium here, she mused, listening to the increasingly strangled noises he was making as her mouth worked. Before she could decide what else he tasted like, his hands fisted in her robes, pulling her back up to his mouth. He pressed her back against the stone, kissing her fiercely, even as he shoved the ragged hem of her robes up. His fingers slid against her, into her, the lyrium humming in pulses against her magic. Her head went back, and she whispered his name desperately, begging near incoherently. His mouth wandered down her neck, nibbling, and his hands slid under her thighs, lifting her hips. She locked her arms around his neck, kissing along his sensitive ears, and nearly bit down when he drove into her. She mewled, wrapping her legs around him to pull him closer, her eyes wild with need. He nuzzled into her neck, panting. "Amica mea," he whispered, feeling her around him, and kissed the hollow where her throat met her shoulder. "Mea nunc," he told her, lost in the moment, "Meum semper." His breathing caught, as he felt her go over the edge under him, and he bit into her shoulder. "Meus sodalis," he whispered, letting himself go.

They remained there for another moment, fighting to catch their breath, before he stumbles back to the blanket, not bothering to put her down. They lay there, limbs entwined; breathing in each other's scents. Lupa nuzzled blissfully at Fenris's neck. "You know, we really need to do that more often than every three years."

"You may have an excellent point there, amica mea." Fenris stretched, and decided he felt better than he had in a very long time. He ran an appreciative hand over the length of exposed thigh next to him before sitting up, his tunic half off. A hand traced old whip scars half hidden by lyrium vines, before lips pressed gently against them.

"I wish I could make him feel every pain he has ever given you, endure every humiliation. I wish I could make his death last an eternity, but even that would not take the scars from you. It would not make things right." She was looking up at him, those golden wolf eyes darkly serious, and he leaned back to kiss her. She was smiling when he had finished, however sadly, so he pressed his face to hers.

"He jumps at every shadow in the underbrush, every rustle in the grass, for fear of a wolf hunting him. He is without guards, without his lyrium, without any help his wealth could buy him. He has learned to fear, even if he is mistaken on what to fear. He will die, tonight if we can manage it." He carded the worst of the tangles from her hair, and smiled at her. "Your magic chases away what pain remains, and the nightmares will fade. I will be free."

"You are free, love. But it would be nice not to have anyone hunting us." She rose, straightening her robes as best she could in the process, before snatching a bladed staff from a dusty rack and slinging it over her back. She gave him a wolfish grin, eyes alight. "Let's go teach him why people fear to go hunting wolves in their own territories, hmm?"

Wolf met them at the entrance, stub tailed rear wagging furiously. His pack was together again, and they would hunt. All was as it should be.

* * *

><p>as usual, google translate provided the rough latin for non game quote arcanum, Amica mea is my love, constratis sum is i am so sorry, mea nunc is mine now, meum semper is mine always, meus sodalis is my mate.<p>

reviews make me happy. happy writers write more. i write more, i finish chapter 13 so i give you chapter 12.


	12. Chapter 12

Fenris carefully strode around the rocks, trying not to think about the last time his feet had carried him over this path. The moon had crept out from behind clouds after the rain had ceased, and it was easy to pick his way over the mud and sharp gravel. Certainly easier than it had been barely two days before; bound, broken, beaten, drowning in his own despair. Now he walked free, healed, hunting the ones who had dared come after him, to take his hard won freedom and harm his mate. In the rock s of the cliffs, he could just hear the scrambling of the mabari, going one of the long ways around to come at their prey from behind. Lupa would be in the depths of the deep thicket that bordered the small copse of trees where he had been bound, waiting for her moment. Fenris smiled, and prepared to confront his former master.

He stepped around the corner into the campsite and smiled grimly. The magister was huddled near the fire, leg covered in red spotted bandages. He looked up sharply at the elf's approach, and rose with badly concealed pain. "Ah, my pet. I thought the beast might have eaten you, out there alone and wounded. Clever of you, to take the opportunity it's attack provided. But now you've returned, back to your proper place at my side. Come and sit by the fire, and I might even have some food for you." Danarius was leaning heavily on his staff, even as he watched Fenris step closer with amused pleasure. "Come, my little wolf. Don't be afraid. I know it's cold and scary out there where real wolves howl, with no one to feed you or protect you. I'm so glad you've remembered where you belong."

From the thicket and the looming rocks, mournful howls rose, and Fenris moved closer to his prey, watching the mage he had feared for so long flinch back, closer to the dubious protection of the fire. Varania crouched at his side, Lupa's golden staff still at her back. Behind him, he could hear the soldiers shuffling step out from a sentry's position, and glanced back long enough to note the one arm tucked into a makeshift sling. He smiled again. "I'm not afraid of you, Danarius. Certainly not of them."

The magister's eyes flashed, and he raised one hand, about to make an indignant response. Then he saw the eyes at the edge of the thicket, glowing in the firelight, and froze. "Kill the beast and I'll forget your insolence for now." A fierce howl erupted in the rocks not ten feet from where Danarius stood, and he spun, nearly falling into the fire. "More of them?" he shrieked, eyes wide with fear.

"Had you forgotten that wolves run in packs? Very foolish." The magister turned back to look at the elf, even as his apprentice squeaked, retreating behind him. He lashed out with a careless fist as she passed him, before he saw what had frightened her. The oversized red wolf was there; the one that had charged through the camp just that day, attacking him before he could fight it off. The creature that had been hunting him, killing the soldiers he had hired, for days was back, and it stood growling not five paces behind his runaway slave.

"Fenris! Kill it, Kill it now!" Danarius ordered, confident the elf would obey, if only to save himself. Fenris glanced back, almost amused, and the wolf slunk to his side, pressing her long muzzle into his palm. He ran his hand affectionately over her head, rubbing at soft furred ears.

"And why would I want to do such a thing to my own pack, my own mate? Wolves recognize their own," Fenris laughed. Danarius gathered his energy, and lashed out, throwing enough fire to obliterate both of them. Obviously, freedom had driven his pet into madness. He could retrieve the lyrium from the charred corpse later.

His attack splashed harmlessly against the shimmering shield that erupted around the elf and wolf. Except then it wasn't a wolf at his pet's side, but a raggedly robed woman, leaning on a bladed staff as she held the shield. She smirked at him, golden eyes flashing, and a wave of force magic swept across the clearing, knocking him back. The soldier rushed in, and she sidestepped, tripping him up with a flick of her staff before letting Fenris catch him with a swift down sweep of his massive sword, taking his head from his neck. The shield caught his next blast and dropped, the two in the center paused in defensive positions, waiting to see what he would do.

He heard snarling from the rocks behind him, and glanced back, to see his would be apprentice pinned under the bared fangs of a war hound. Useless girl. Lightning flashed inches from his face, drawing his attention back to the matter at hand. Danarius reached for his dagger, and called demons through the veil.

Shades charged them, and Fenris and Lupa threw themselves into the fight, staff and sword and flashing magic. A rage demon slid in, and was frozen and shattered. And when the dust settled, they were much closer to the magister, who scrambled back, lashing out frantically with fire and seething blood magic. A shield went up, barely holding against his flames, and a glowing blade wielded by a blue glowing elf made short work of the corpses rising from the ground.

The magister reached for his dagger again, cursing as he saw how deep his wounds already were. Before he could drag it across his flesh again, another shock wave of force magic swept towards him, knocking the blade from his grasp. Fenris stalked towards him, implacable, almost carelessly disposing of any new threats in his path, green eyes seeming to glow malevolently in the flickering firelight and flashes of magic. The blade of mercy swung down, and Danarius desperately blocked, feeling the sword scrape across the metal of his staff. Deflecting the rest of the blow, he lashed out with both fire and the butt of his staff, catching Fenris just under his breastplate. Fenris stumbled back, and that was all the opening the Tevinter lord needed to regain the advantage.

Or so he thought. Bolts of magic flew from his staff, even as he swung the spiked end up, but the elf wasn't where he aimed. The magister lashed out again, but Fenris let his brands deflect the magic, and raised his sword again. A red mist rose around his enemy, tendrils snaking out towards him, and he felt his blood stirring against his will in his veins. His sword fell from his slackening grasp, and he saw the rush of flames surrounding him, searing the air around him. Danarius stepped towards him, and sent pain flaring through his markings. The old mage stood over the elf, unwilling to release the spell of torment, even as he raised the sharp spiked mace head that topped his staff, ready to terminate his favorite experiment. "You should have learnt obedience, my pet. I would have taken you back if you'd killed her when I commanded."

A sharp bladed staff, crackling with lightning, slammed into his leg, slicing through the bandages to dig into the still throbbing bite wound. "Has no one ever told you wolves make horrible pets?" she laughed, as he stumbled sharply, losing his spell as he fought to keep his leg from buckling underneath him.

"You're an ill-tempered bitch, in any form. I will take great pleasure in breaking you, once I peel the lyrium out of his worthless hide," Danarius threatened, trying to ready a spell. She dodged the bolt he threw, but staggered under the next blast, one leg catching awkwardly against the rocks behind her. She collapsed back with a small yelp, her new staff rolling out of reach, and he smiled. "It's almost a pity. I could have done so much with you two as a team. The way you fought together, it was rather like a dance. Perhaps if I wiped both your memories, had you two trained together…? It might actually be worth the inconvenience of not killing you, of having the ship's crew fetch you two. To have two such fierce wolves collared at my feet, awaiting my every whim; that might be worth quite a bit of inconvenience," He mused, glancing between where she lay on the rocks, one leg bent in an unnatural position, and where Fenris still sprawled, trying to recover from the extended effects of the spell. He leered, eying where the tattered pieces of her robes exposed pale skin. "And of course, my pet seems quite fond of you. His mate, did he call you? I wonder what he would do to have another chance to touch you, once you're both in my bed," He chuckled lecherously, not looking away from the where the long rip across the front of her shoulder ended. "What would you do for me, Fenris, to be allowed to run your hands over that porcelain skin?" he asked mockingly. "It does look like she'd clean up rather pretty, pretty enough even for me. How well would you serve your master, for the chance to hold her close while I …"

A sharp footstep, right at his back, and an enraged snarl was all the warning the magister got before a hand slid through his back into his chest cavity. The fingers flexed, sending excruciating pain through his nerves as they brushed various vital organs. They rose, touching the hard pounding muscle of his heart, as a furious blue glow leaned over his shoulder and wrapped his other hand around his throat. Danarius opened his mouth, then whimpered as both hands squeezed, digging in ever so lightly. "You should not have spoken of her in such a way." Fenris growled into his ear, twisting the hand phased into the magister's chest slowly. "You should not have thought of her in such a way." The hand slid over his heart, his lungs, setting every nerve to screaming along the way, and only the grip on his vocal cords kept him from screaming along. "You are no longer my master," the elf snarled, and his fingers punched through flesh, ripping out Danarius's throat even as his other hand clenched around his heart, feeling the blood spurt between his fingers.

Once the heart under his hand stopped beating, once the opened throat stopped gushing blood, Fenris dropped the corpse into the dirt, and sprinted to Lupa, who was struggling to her feet, balancing heavily on the staff she had managed to snag. "I'm okay," she wheezed. "Just a broken bone, not even near the joint. I can fix it, once I manage to catch my breath." He ran his fingers over her cheek, the tender gesture only slightly marred by the bloody trail the digits left. She wiped at it, giggling, before deliberately tapping the tip of his nose, smearing it as well. Fenris blinked, tilting her head up to check her pupils, which were much dilated.

"How much of that lyrium have you had?" he asked, watching her heal her leg. She arranged herself into a more comfortable position, and looked thoughtful.

"Enough that resetting the bone didn't hurt as much as it should. Probably more than is wise, to be honest. Force magic is draining." She took the hand he offered to pull herself to her feet, burying her face into his shoulder. "Fenris, I…"

A sharp growl rumbled from the other end of the rocks, and they both turned to look. Varania tried to edge back from the mabari who had her pinned against a boulder, and looked at them pleadingly. "Leto, please…" she yelped as Wolf feigned a snap at her leg, and fell quiet.

Fenris and Lupa glanced at her, and then back at each other. "She's your sister, love. It's your decision," the mage shrugged, before noticing the familiar golden staff the girl was carrying. "If you throw her over the cliff, please grab my staff first?" she requested, and Fenris smiled faintly.


	13. Chapter 13

A sharp growl rumbled from the other end of the rocks, and they both turned to look. Varania tried to edge back from the mabari who had her pinned against a boulder, and looked at them pleadingly. "Leto, please…" she yelped as Wolf feigned a snap at her leg, and fell quiet.

Fenris and Lupa glanced at her, and then back at each other. "She's your sister, love. It's your decision," the mage shrugged, before noticing the familiar golden staff the girl was carrying. She bared her teeth in a momentary snarl, and then looked back at her lover. "If you throw her over the cliff, please grab my staff first?" she requested, and Fenris smiled faintly.

He stalked over to his sister, Wolf giving way before him, and glared down at her. She cowered back, green eyes wide with terror. "Please, I… I had no choice. I…"

He snatched the staff from her grasp, handing it back to the golden eyed woman standing behind him. Lupa took it, running a hand comfortingly over his arm. He let his fingers twine with hers for just a second, not looking away from the green eyes in front of him. "You betrayed your own brother. You would have seen me dragged back into slavery. You tried to kill the woman I love. You… You just watched, and let them… As they…" He shook his head, and just stared at his sibling for a moment. Those eyes, so much like his own. "I would have given you anything, everything. Why?"

"Leto, you don't…" she started, but fell silent at his snarl.

"Stop calling me that!" he snapped, and stepped closer to her, brands flaring. "I thought I wanted family, something to tie me to my past, even if I can't remember it. I wish I had never been told about you. You should have stayed in Minrathous," He growled. One glowing hand flexed, blood still coating the fingertips.

"You don't understand. You said you didn't ask for those markings, but you're wrong. You competed for them, used the boon to free mother and me," Varania told him, watching the anger in his face turn to confusion. She added sharply "But freedom was no boon. After mother died, I think you got the better dea..."

The anger was back, and mossy green eyes went hard. "So I had you freed, and still you…" His marking went bright, and he reached for her.

"Please, you are my brother. This isn't how you are. I just want to go home, Leto…" She was shoved back against the rock, his fingers about to slide into her chest. Moss green eyes tracked frantically past his shoulder to the mage carefully checking her staff for damage. "Please don't let him kill me!" she begged, and golden eyes looked back with almost amused curiosity.

"You do realize I'm probably not the most sympathetic audience under the circumstances, right? You killed me…vey nearly. And I saw the condition Fenris was in when I came for him, quite well. I know what you let them do to him. I have no idea how you could just watch something like that happening to anyone, let alone your own brother." Lupa stared at the redhead, lip curling back into a derisive snarl.

"When he wrote me, he said you were a good person. Kind and generous and… please, don't let Leto do this…"

"Do not use my words to sway her. You nearly took her from me. You stole her staff out of a pool of her blood. You have no right to her kindness, not after what you have done." He snarled, moving to block his sister's gaze. "Your Leto is gone. You will deal with me."

She looked at him, frightened, and tried to glance around him at Lupa. "Champion, please...?"

"It's his decision. You're of his blood," came the firm response, before Lupa leaned forward, wrapping her arms briefly around his waist as she brought herself back into the Tevinter apprentice's line of sight. "Incidentally, I would have killed you by now, for what you did to my pack. For what you did to my mate." She ran a soothing hand over his stomach, before turning to comfort the waiting mabari.

Fenris smiled briefly at her, his markings dimming momentarily. Varania stared after her, catching the shift in Fenris's features to an angry sneer as his attention went back to her. "Leto, please, I'm so sor…" The hand plunged into her chest, clenching around her heart.

"Do not call me that!" he snarled, even as her body crumpled to the dirt. He stood over the corpse for a moment, staring at the blood coating his hands. Quiet footsteps sounded behind him, along with a faint dragging noise. Lupa stood there when he turned, clumsily offering him the hilt of his heavy greatsword. He curled his fingers around hers at the crosspiece, and just stared at her for long seconds, the blood of the mages he had killed slowly soaking into the leather wrapping of the hilt.

And she looked back at him, burgundy auburn hair tangled into a thousand knots around her shoulders, blue dress robes badly bloodstained and ripped enough to expose more skin than Isabela; breast and belly and thigh, the side of her face and the length of the leg she had broken and healed still badly bruised, and those eyes, golden as the harvest moon, watching him with something that very closely resembled adoration. "Amica mea, I …"

A cold wind whipped in off the coastal cliffs, slicing through even his tunic, and Lupa shivered in the tatters of her robes. He pulled her close, trying to shield her, shield them both from the cutting wind, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. "It's cold out here. I miss having fur already," she laughed, and since his face was so conveniently close, kissed him, chilled fingers lacing themselves into his hair. "I love you, Fenris, now, always, no matter what," she whispered into his jaw, before he dropped his sword again in favor of tangling his hands in the mess of her hair, kissing her back fiercely.

"I feel like these markings are stained into my soul, amica mea. That I would have willingly taken them, competed for them…" he said uncertainly, when they paused for breath.

"That only means you cared for your family enough to try to trade yourself for them. I doubt Danarius had told you the full extent of what the ritual entailed, love, much less what he meant to do to you later," she soothed, face still pressed against his.

"But the notion I chose this, chose to serve that… And that family I cared so much for, we know how that ends." Fenris gestured at the corpse still slumped against the rocks.

"Think of it like this then, as you told her. Leto made that choice, not Fenris. You have different memories, different priorities. Leto is gone, and his family as well. And Danarius is dead as well. Are you happy?" Wolf had curled at their feet, ignoring the conversation above him.

"Vengeance is not as sweet as they claim. It tastes like bitter ashes…I thought if I found my past, if Danarius were dead at my hands, that I would be happy. But all I can see is the bruises on your skin and the blood on my hands." Fenris ran one finger gently over her bruised cheekbone. Then he pulled back, collecting his sword from the ground. "I came so close to losing what I do have in the search for what I once had..."

"But you didn't. I'm here, Fenris," She firmly stated, and healed the visible bruises in a flicker of magic. The wind blew harder and she shivered, giving him a rueful smile. "I'm freezing, and I swear I'm never wearing robes that don't have real armor in them again ever, but I'm here. Can we go home now?"

"It will be a long trek back to Kirkwall, amica mea, but it will indeed be good to go home."

"Which is why I told Isabela to meet us at the cove about 10 miles that way. I'm assuming she brought her ship. She better have, considering what we went through to get it." Lupa shrugged then, even as she gestured expansively in a generally eastern direction. "Our ride back to civilization, food and warm beds awaits." An errant wind swept past, blowing at her robes where the rips were worst, causing her to yelp with the sudden chill before she noticed how far the top of her robes had ripped. Lupa looked down at her mostly exposed chest, and sighed, even as she noticed her lover's amused look. She held her front as closed as it would go and walked back over to the fallen soldier, tugging the cloak out from under his body. "You can look at them all you want once we're somewhere warm,' she muttered, though her tone was almost as amused as his gaze.

She draped the slightly bloodstained wool over Fenris's shoulders, then stretched and dropped into wolf form. She ran a few yards down the path, sitting back on her haunches and looking at the elf and dog behind her pointedly a few steps before it turned. Then she shook, letting her thick fur fall back into sleek lines. The mabari and the warrior glanced at each other, and followed her, Fenris swiping his gauntlets back out of the last pack on the way. She pressed a damp canine nose briefly into his palm, before dashing off again, making the others run to keep up with her easy lope.

She shifted back once they hit the sheltered entrance to the cove, sneaking a sip of lyrium while Fenris caught his breath from the run. "Was that really necessary?" He asked, leaning against the cliff wall as Wolf sprawled panting at his feet.

"Well, we're here, and we're both more or less warm. We could have ambled along like it was a Sunday stroll, but then we would still be back there in the wind right now, whining about the cold. I suppose we didn't need to take the last two slopes at a dead run, but…" She grinned madly at the look on his face.

Fenris glanced down at the dog, who was giving his mistress a distinctly disgruntled look. "If you want to bite her… gently, mind you, I wouldn't say anything."

"Oh, did I miss all the fun?" Isabela strolled down the gangplank from her ship, sounding disappointed. "And when did Hawke improve her robes? I like the look." She cheerfully leered at the exposed flesh, ignoring the mage's resigned sigh.

* * *

><p>well, future chapters might be slightly delayed, as 15 is being stubborn and my everquest guild is begging me to play more, which means writing less. sorry. i will try to keep up with posts, but... no promises<p> 


	14. Chapter 14

well, here's chapter 14. thank you for you patience. it may be further required, as the everquest two level cap just went up. by two, but still...

* * *

><p>Lupa shifted back once they hit the sheltered entrance to the cove, sneaking a sip of lyrium while Fenris caught his breath from the run. "Was that really necessary?" He asked, leaning against the cliff wall as Wolf sprawled panting at his feet.<p>

"Well, we're here, and we're both more or less warm. We could have ambled along like it was a Sunday stroll, but then we would still be back there in the wind right now, whining about the cold. I suppose we didn't need to take the last two slopes at a dead run, but…" She grinned madly at the look on his face.

Fenris glanced down at the dog, who was giving his mistress a distinctly disgruntled look. "If you want to bite her… gently, mind you, I wouldn't say anything."

"Oh, did I miss all the fun?" Isabela strolled down the gangplank from her ship, sounding disappointed. "And when did Hawke improve her robes? I like the look." She cheerfully leered at the exposed flesh, ignoring the mage's resigned sigh.

"Yes, well, I'm never wearing dress robes on a heroic rescue again, fashionable or not. If this was my vestments, I'd have chainmail and leather, however light, between me and danger, and they don't rip so easily," she muttered, but gave the pirate a tired grin. "I am very glad you're here, Isabela."

"You just didn't want to walk home and I'm the only ship captain you know," Isabela remarked airily, though she looked pleased by the sentiment.

"You are the only person with a ship I know who'd be certain to know about a conveniently hidden cove, true. But would you want to walk back from here?" Lupa asked ingratiatingly, smiling brightly.

"Sailing does beat legging it back over several days' worth of rough terrain," Isabela agreed, even as she regarded the mage thoughtfully. "You seem more yourself than when you left. The way you were acting… I was a little worried."

"Rivaini, leave them be. They look like they could use a rest and a good meal before they tell us what we missed. Hawke isn't snarling or trying to rip anyone's throat out, we should be fine." Varric strode down into their midst to clap Fenris on the back. "Good to have you back, elf. Wouldn't be the same without you along. Hawke went a little nuts when you were gone. I'm sorry I wasn't along to help in the first place."

"I missed you too, Varric. But as to Hawke, from what I've heard, it was only the abomination she was threatening, before she left. I don't think that counts as a problem, all things considered," Fenris responded, moving to wrap his arms over Lupa's shoulders protectively. She looked up at him and smiled gratefully, resting one hand on top of his over her heart.

"She was acting all serious! It was very un-Hawke-like. She's almost never serious about anything. Are we sure…?" Isabela asked vaguely, looking at Varric.

"She is not possessed. I am sure of that much," Fenris assured her. "Varric said something about a good meal?"

"We could have Choir-boy and Daisy fix something up in the galley, if you're that hungry…" Varric saw the looks Lupa, Fenris, and Wolf were giving him, and laughed. "Fair enough. Hey Captain, tell the crew to start cooking!"

"Your crew?" Lupa laughed. "How did you manage that?"

"You didn't expect me to sail here by myself, did you? I rounded up those of my old crew who survived the storm and were still looking for work. Plus those of our lot who didn't trust me to retrieve you on my own, which apparently meant everyone but Aveline and the blond mage you tried to kill." Isabela answered flippantly.

Lupa snorted as they headed up onto the ship's deck. "If I had actually been trying, Anders would be dead. Consider it my trying to make a point to him. I am surprised Aveline, of all people, trusted you to go after us without her."

"Oh, I wouldn't call it trusting me. She just said it was more important for her to stay and make excuses for you to the knight commander. And that if I didn't bring you back safe she would hunt me down and hurt me severely." Isabela smiled for a second at her friend, before turning on the nearest crew member with sharply voiced orders to get the ship under way.

Sebastian had food going in the galley, and three plates already on the table when they wandered in at Varric's heels. "Hey Choir-boy, look what Bianca and I found on the coast!"

"Thank the Maker you are both safe. I have been praying for your safe return, Fenris. And Hawke, I…" the exiled prince exclaimed, one hand going to his amulet.

"I'm sorry. You were trying to help and I nearly went after you," Lupa started apologizing before the scents of the galley kitchen wafted under her nose. "Wait… Is that fresh bread…?" She asked of no one in particular before grabbing a small loaf and her plate. "Warm food… mmmm." She promptly dug in, apology forgotten in favor of filling her empty stomach. Fenris was already sitting, a large portion of his plate gone before he thought to hand the third plate down to the waiting dog.

Merrill charged in as Lupa's spoon scraped along the bottom of her plate, enthusiastically hugging the human mage, who fought not to drop her plate in surprise. "Lethallan! You're back! I was worried. Oh, and Fenris and Wolf too!" She promptly hugged Fenris as well; completely oblivious to the pleading look he gave Lupa. Lupa shrugged at him, and he sighed before reluctantly hugging back. Merrill smiled back over at Hawke when she finally released the warrior, and made as if to embrace her again before Lupa held her plate before her defensively.

"Can we finish eating first, Merrill? Please?" She asked patiently, and the Dalish mage settled for patting the dog, who gave Lupa about the same look Fenris had.

They eventually managed to eat their fill, before being barraged with questions from the others. Fenris made his quiet escape somewhere between the fourth and fifth reiteration of "but what happened?" He made his way to a calmer corner of the deck, seating himself on a coiled pile of tarred rope and staring through the railings. He did not want to answer questions about what had been done to him, before Lupa had slunk in. It was bad enough Lupa knew, between what she had heard and what her magic had told her. To have his shame recounted before all his companions, to be asked to speak of it, that would be too much.

Soft padding footfalls sounded behind him, and a cold nose bumped at his arm. He shifted positions, and a lupine head settled across his lap, the rest of her sprawled at his side. Fenris stroked the soft fur before him, scratched the silken ears, and relaxed.

Sometime later, he realized she had changed back, and his fingers were buried in the tangles of her hair. She sat up when his hands stopped moving, leaning against his side instead. "The stars are coming out…" she murmured sleepily as he draped an arm over her shoulders, pointing at the clear evening sky above the troubled ocean. She rested her head back against him, and yawned. "Love you, Fenris. I should have just told you ages ago."

Fenris smiled down at her. "I love you, Lupa," he whispered, and she snuggled closer before falling asleep with another yawn. He sat there for a time, holding his sleeping mage close and watching the stars. The wind picked up as the ship left the shelter of the cliffs, and he rose, picking her up easily without waking her. He carried her to the cabin Isabela had designated as his, tucking her into a hammock and blankets before settling down on the floor with the spare blankets and a pillow. The roll of the ship and the steady pattern of her breathing soon lulled him into slumber.

Lupa's desperate whimpers woke him some hours later. He came to his feet in a rush at the sound, just in time to catch her before she thrashed clear of the hammock. She was still asleep, he noticed, lost in some nightmare. She screamed, then, the sound as much a howl as anything human. Isabela burst through the door, daggers drawn, and halted as she took in the scene. Red finger marks appeared along the mage's arms, with no apparent cause, swiftly darkening into bruises. More marks appeared along exposed skin, and she lashed out, nearly striking the warrior who held her.

Merrill arrived behind the pirate, and pushed forward until she knelt next to Fenris and the dreaming mage. "Wake up, lethallan, please..." she muttered, watching the bruises appear with a worried look. She shook Lupa's shoulders sharply, and then froze, seeing a glimpse of something. She reached out, grabbing one wrist and turning it to expose a marked palm. The black paw print glowed eerily in the moonlit room. The dalish witch froze, and looked up at Fenris. "She… try calling her. Wake her up. She might still hear you," she suggested, backing away as she dropped Lupa's wrist.

* * *

><p>okay, so i might have an evil streak. please review!<p> 


	15. Chapter 15

Lupa's desperate whimpers woke him some hours later. He came to his feet in a rush at the sound, just in time to catch her before she thrashed clear of the hammock. She was still asleep, he noticed, lost in some nightmare. She screamed, then, the sound as much a howl as anything human. Isabela burst through the door, daggers drawn, and halted as she took in the scene. Red finger marks appeared along the mage's arms, with no apparent cause, swiftly darkening into bruises. More marks appeared along exposed skin, and she lashed out, nearly striking the warrior who held her.

Merrill arrived behind the pirate, and pushed forward until she knelt next to Fenris and the dreaming mage. "Wake up, lethallan, please..." she muttered, watching the bruises appear with a worried look. She shook Lupa's shoulders sharply, and then froze, seeing a glimpse of something. She reached out, grabbing one wrist and turning it to expose a marked palm. The black paw print glowed eerily in the moonlit room. The Dalish witch froze, and looked up at Fenris. "She's … try calling her. Wake her up. She might still hear you," she suggested, backing away as she dropped Lupa's wrist.

Fenris glared, but tried. "Wake up, amica mea. Please," he stroked over the tattoos on her face, willing her to return to him. A thought occurred to him, and he let his brands activate, brushing glowing fingers over her face before reaching for her marked palm. "Do not leave me alone, please, my love." The blue glow of his lyrium met the dark gleam of her hand, and he heard her gasp for air, whimpering as her eyes opened, and cough. She coughed again as her eyes found him leaning over her, blinking up at him dazedly.

"Fen? Why are you…?" She reached up, tracing a trailing tear down his cheek. Then she saw the rings of bruises along her arm in the dim mix of moonlight and lyrium, and the other two people in the room. "Oh, damn it. I'm sorry. It was… just a nightmare. I didn't mean to wake anyone."

"You were screaming loud enough to wake the dead, you wouldn't wake up until he went glowy, and that was just a nightmare?" The ship's captain asked incredulously, shaking her head.

"One of the down sides to being a mage. What we face in our dreams is sometimes all too real, at least while we're there. The fade isn't a particularly welcoming place for me right now, but I would have woken up by morning and with nothing worse than bruises." Lupa responded dully, not looking anyone in the eyes. "It's trying to wake up early that's the problem." She looked up at Fenris, a worried plea in her eyes. He shifted position to pull her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her protectively.

"But why…?" Isabela started to ask, only to be interrupted by Merrill.

"Because of the deal she made." She answered, before turning to Hawke. "The Dread Wolf may honor the word of his bargains, but almost never the spirit of them, lethallan," she warned.

"I know, Merrill. I knew that when I made the deal. I just had to take it anyway, even knowing the price." Lupa glanced up at Fenris, leaning back against him. "The price of not taking it would have been worse."

"But why could he wake her, then?" the pirate wondered, looking at and Lupa shook her head.

"I don't know. Maybe because he's the reason I came back. But the last time he woke me was when his brands went off during one of his nightmares, and so far he's the only thing that can wake me early." She ran a hand almost absently over her arm, healing the bruises. "Wolf tried when we were still tracking, the one time I risked trying to sleep." She leaned back again, and yawned. "I knew the price, or should have, but I'm still so tired." Isabela and Merrill yawned as well, and Lupa chuckled sleepily. "No reason for you to stay up as well, my friends. Not really anything you can do."

Merrill frowned for a moment. "I think I can find out why Fenris can wake you; I saw something about it in my book, in the chapter about Fen'harel and his tricks. I'll check when we get home. Maybe it will help."

"Thanks Merrill. And thanks Isabela, for checking on me." Lupa said as the elf and the pirate left the room. "Sorry for scaring you, Fenris. I… this was the worst one yet, and I didn't realize I was really screaming."

"What was it about, to scare you that badly?" Fenris asked, pulling the blankets around them both. Lupa just shook her head before resting it on his chest.

"You don't want to know. Really." He could feel her quiet shudder against him. "You have your own nightmares. I'd rather not give you fuel for more."

Fenris carded his fingers through her hair, easing out some of the tangles. She relaxed slowly against him, and he leaned back against the wall. "Sleep, then, my love, if you can." The heartbeat under his other hand steadied and slowed, and her breathing deepened.

She was still curled in his lap the next morning, the blankets tangled around their legs. "goo'mornin'," she yawned when he stretched under her, nuzzling sleepily at his neck. He kissed her forehead affectionately, and she blinked up at him, her arms going around his neck.

"Did you sleep better, then?" Fenris asked, and she smiled ruefully.

"No nightmares bad enough to bleed through, at least none that I could remember. Apparently I only have to deal with one a night." She stretched, oddly catlike, before resettling herself in his lap. Her arms went back around his neck, and she nuzzled at his jaw. "Thank you for waking me last night," she whispered, and kissed him. He shifted under her, and kissed back, his hands sliding down her back.

Outside the door, someone was yelling. "Just go wake her up and make her get that dog out of my galley!"

"She's your friend!"

"It's my ship!" Isabela as captain was much louder than usual.

"But what if she turns me into a toad?"

"For the record, I don't think that's actually possible. I certainly don't know how to do it." Lupa muttered, reluctantly prying herself back from Fenris's embrace. Fenris sighed, torn between frustration and amusement, and helped her up.

The door burst open, and Isabela strode in. "Hawke! Your dog is…"

"Yes, I heard. Ravaging the galley. I'll go deal with it. He's probably hungry," Hawke responded, before stalking past the pirate, muttering to herself.

Isabela glanced after her and back at Fenris, who was collecting his sword and armor from the pile he had stacked them in the night before. "What's her problem? Did she have another nightmare last night?"

"No," The elf replied shortly, and pushed past her, following Lupa. Isabela blinked for a second before shaking her head.

"Oh," she said to no one in particular. "I suppose it could have waited. Oh well."

Wolf was removed from the pantry, scolded halfheartedly, and sent on deck to wait for breakfast. Lupa waited with him, watching the ocean over the railing. Fenris joined her sometime later, pressing a mug of warm tea into her hands. "Isabela says we should be home by tomorrow morning."

"Meredith is going to be very annoyed about my disappearing for days without warning," the mage sighed. "I wonder if I could convince Isabela to just drop me off somewhere else. The weather in Ferelden is even worse this time of year, but…" She leaned against his shoulder. "How attached to Kirkwall in particular are you?"

"Considering all my books are back at the mansion?" Fenris asked dryly, before shaking his head. "Isabela won't go against Aveline's edict to bring you home safe, at any rate. The guard captain can be an imposing figure when people she considers hers are threatened."

"True. I hope the excuses she's making for me are good. I'd rather not go home to one of the 'Step out of line and I can make you tranquil' lectures the knight commander so loves." Lupa sipped at her tea, staring pensively at the sky. "Or worse, to her trying to convince the Grand Cleric to actually let her do it."

"I will not let them do that to you." Fenris pulled her closer and kissed her neck. "I won't let them turn you into one of those empty shells, I swear, not while I live. The thought of you as anything but yourself…"

She pressed herself back into him and sighed. "I know. I love you." She chuckled sadly for a moment. "And as long as you live, I will fight to stay myself." She twisted in his arms, setting the mug on the edge of the railing before turning, cradling his face in her hands. "I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't got to you in time, if they had taken you back to Tevinter…" Lupa shuddered, and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her against his chest. She blinked up at him, eyes suspiciously bright, and smiled as he ran a thumb briefly over her cheekbone. "I don't want to think about it," she suddenly announced decisively. "About what might have happened to you, or what Meredith might want to do to me, or any of those what ifs. You're here and safe and we'll deal with the knight commander when we must." She kissed his palm, and turned to retrieve her tea.

"And what of the nightmares?" Fenris asked quietly, and heard her swift intake of breath a second before the mug dropped. Shattered shards of clay splayed across the puddle of tea at her feet, as rivulets of dark liquid spread over the deck, but she didn't turn.

"Yours or mine?" She inquired in a tightly controlled tone, her knuckles going white where she gripped the railing.

"Lupa." He spoke her name in the same quiet tone he had asked the question in, watching her tense further before relaxing reluctantly.

"Yours might start to recede as soon as we get back to what passes for normality for us. It's likely to be a slow process, but eventually you should heal..." Lupa turned back, offering a brief smile before dropping her gaze. "And mine? I… I'll find a way to keep them from disturbing the entire house, somehow. If you're with me and it wakes you, you could bring me out of it, but…"

"You shouldn't have to deal with them, not every night. There has to be a way…" Fenris pushed forward to stand at the railing, looking anywhere but the resigned look in those golden eyes. "It's not fair…" he started, but stopped, dismayed at the whining tone of his own voice.

"If life were fair, you never would have been a slave. I knew what I was buying when I took the deal. I can survive this. I can handle anything the fade can throw at me, as long as I know you'll be there when I wake." She stepped closer to him, ducking under his arm to stand between him and the railing, running her fingers over his jaw. She looked up at him, that golden gaze oddly pleading, and then buried her face against the leather of his tunic.

"I will be at your side, amica mea." He kissed her fingertips, and tilted her face up towards his with one lyrium lined finger before leaning down and pressing his lips to hers. She kissed back fiercely, her fingers lacing at the back of his neck, the aura of her magic pulsing just under her skin. She let it flare against the lines of his lyrium for just a moment, feeling his reaction in both the flicker of his brands and the deepening of the kiss, before forcing it to subside as she pulled back for air.

"I'm not as hungry for breakfast as I was. Shall we return to our cabin?" she asked, eyes gleaming mischievously.

"Amica mea, I'm not sure why we left." His grin matched hers, and she grabbed his hand, tugging him hurriedly back in that direction.

* * *

><p>thank you to every one who reviews, they give me incentive to keep writing, as compared to spending all my time playing eq2<p> 


	16. Chapter 16

my heartiest apologies for the long wait. real life started kicking my butt and my muse went silent. sorry. thanks to every one still reading.

* * *

><p>He kissed her again as soon as the door shut behind them, his hands fisting into her robes. The rip along her front ripped farther in his grip, and he froze. "I…"<p>

"Never mind, Fen," she laughed, "This robe was already a lost cause." She stepped out of the ruin of fabric, and back into his arms. "Now, where were we?"

They sprawled together in a tangle of limbs, trying to catch their breaths. Lupa shifted, planting her arms to either side of her lover's head as she smiled down at him. He looked back up at her with a rare grin, running a hand over her back possessively. "I trust this was sufficient comforting for the nightmare last night?" he asked, his head pillowed on the folds of his tunic.

"I was sufficiently comforted when you woke me," she laughed. "I'll count this against making me go back to deal with Meredith."

"Isabela wouldn't have let you leave her to Aveline's mercies at any rate, amica mea." Lupa sighed, and rested her chin on his chest.

"I know, love. It would have been nice to see the world with you, though. No one hunting us, no expectations, no noble idiocies. Just you, and me, and wherever we wanted to go. We could have gone to Antiva. It's supposed to be warm in Antiva. There's Rivain, it's supposed to be warm there too. Or we could visit Nevarra, and see the Necropolis. And maybe peek at the College of Magi if we happened to pass through Cumberland…" Fenris's hand landed heavily on her rump, and she yelped in surprise.

"Don't you get enough of magic here, Hawke?" Fenris asked, most of his annoyance feigned. He ran his fingers soothingly back over the area he had swatted and felt her arch into his touch.

"Mmmn, as much as a mage can get enough of magic, love. But it would be nice to live somewhere where the veil isn't in worse shape than my robes." She stretched, nuzzling at his neck briefly before reluctantly getting to her feet. She kicked absently at the pile of ragged robes near the door before wrapping a blanket around her shoulders and glancing back at Fenris. "Speaking of, would you mind terribly asking Isabela if she has any extra clothes I could borrow until we get home?"

"Would Isabela's idea of clothing be any better than the robes?" Fenris asked, rising to join her.

"Only in theory, most likely, but they wouldn't be covered in blood."

* * *

><p>Isabela was perfectly happy to lend a spare corseted tunic, fussing about the laces and the hems until Lupa half regretted not asking Merril. She had to admit, though, when the pirate was done, she looked good in it, if somewhat exposed. She also had to admit that seeing the looks on the males' faces when Isabela led her up to the deck to show off her handiwork was probably worth the effort in and of itself.<p>

"Hawke, if I went for taller women, Bianca might have something to worry about," Varric remarked, tossing a small bag of coins at Sebastian , who caught it without taking his wistfully speculative gaze back off the neckline of the white leather top. "Provided I could pry you away from Broody here, of course," the dwarf added hastily, noticing the increasingly dangerous look on Fenris's face.

Fenris had watched Lupa dragged up on deck by her pirate friend with an amused quirk of his lips and a sort of proprietary smugness flickering at the back of his mind. And then he noticed the obvious appreciation the storytelling dwarf and former prince were showing for the soft, rounded assets currently displayed. Both his amusement and the hint of smugness vanished like soft mist on a sunny day, replaced by a pointed glare and a scowl like a looming thunderstorm.

"Sorry, Varric. My fierce wolf knight has first claim on my honor and eternal adoration," Lupa laughed, crossing over to drape herself against Fenris, wrapping her arms around his waist possessively as she grinned up at the elf, batting her eyelashes dramatically. He smiled down at her, his gaze softening, and slid a leather sleeved arm around her shoulders. She snuggled happily closer, cheerfully ignoring the renewed glare Fenris aimed over her at the archer still eyeing her corseted form.

"The maker has certainly blessed you with his bounty, my friend." Sebastian commented blissfully, still continuing his visual inspection of the curves before him.

"Speaking of the maker, don't you have a vow to uphold?" the warrior asked pointed of his friend, who shrugged.

"My vows do not prohibit looking…." The former prince finally glanced up, noting the scowl still aimed his way and taking a precautionary step backwards. "Err…"

"Look elsewhere, Sebastian," Fenris firmly suggested, and smiled slightly as the archer took sudden interest in the wood of the decking.

"Do I want to know what you were betting on? Or why you didn't ask me into the pool?" Isabela asked, clearly entertained by the entire situation.

"Choir boy and I were just having a friendly discussion on how the cut of your tunic would work on Hawke. He was right about you getting the laces tight enough to fit someone her size, but I don't think he was expecting how much curve was hiding under those robes of hers." Varric smirked at Sebastian, who flushed slightly. "Not that I want to know how he knew how those corset ribs could be resized that far, anyway. I would have asked you in, but you were already busy with Hawke and I thought she might turn me into a toad for walking in on her naked."

"You are aware I can't actually do that, right?" Lupa asked, mostly rhetorically, rolling her eyes. Then she smiled. "Hit you with lightning or set you on fire, yes. Turn you into an amphibian, no. Merrril could probably learn to make you think you're a toad, though."

"Hawke, haven't we had a conversation about encouraging the Dalish witch into more malificar behavior?"

"Yes, but…" Lupa batted her eyes at Fenris again, smiling appeasingly up at him. The elf merely raised a dark eyebrow and looked at her steadily for a moment. The smile faltered, becoming rueful as the flirtatious flutter of her lashes ceased. "As you like, my love," she sighed, tucking her arm through his and leaning back against him.

Varric nudged Isabela pointedly, causing the pirate to heave a louder sigh than the mage's and hand over a somewhat larger bag of gold. "Stupid bets…" she muttered before glaring halfheartedly at Lupa.

Lupa turned, pulling slightly back from Fenris's grasp. "Do I even want to know what you were betting on this time? Or why it you appear to believe your loss is somehow my fault?"

"Rivaini, I told you she hadn't just found a way to thrall him." Varric snorted. "And she's not you, insisting on being in control of everything in a relationship."

"I just thought given her usual attitude towards authority she wouldn't hand over the reins so easily, that's all." Isabela sulkily muttered.

"So I didn't want to know, as I suspected. Is there anything you two won't bet on?" Lupa watched them glance between each other with only a flicker of shame, and sighed again. "New rule. Our love life is not to be wagered on, at least not when Fenris or I are within earshot, okay?" Both companions looked skeptical at that, at least until Lupa casually raised a hand sparking with electricity. Both swiftly agreed on the fairness of the ruling, and Fenris grinned for a moment. Lupa beamed back at him, before glancing around. "Does anyone know where Wolf got off to?"

A loud crash echoed from the general direction of the galley, and Isabela paled. "Hawke…."

"I'll deal with it, 'bela." Lupa looked back at her warrior for a moment, dashing off when he shook his head.


	17. Chapter 17

okay, again, sorry about the long wait. hopefully, chapter 18 won't be this hard to write.

* * *

><p>Fenris paced thru the puddles on the warped floorboards of his room under the gaping holes in the roof, eerily lit in the embers of his dying fire. Through the window, he could see the first traces of grey predawn light over the thick clouded sky.<p>

Isabela's ship, renamed "Siren's Song" in token honor of her last ship, had slid into port precisely on schedule. And the Knight Commander had been waiting at the docks, Aveline a short pace behind her. Lupa had been shuffled off to explain her "absence in this critical time", and he had been left behind with only a pat on the shoulder from Donnic and a quietly pleading look from Lupa over her shoulder as she followed Meredith up from the docks.

That had been two days ago, and three seemingly endless nights, and "worried" no longer quite covered what he was feeling. Wolf, at least had still been at her side; one of the few reasons he hadn't tried to storm the keep yet. Beyond the worry that had been in her eyes as Meredith had come into sight at the docks and what she had told him of the Knight commander's dislike of her, he feared what might happen if she slipped into one of the Trickster-sent nightmares in the midst of an army of Templars. The deal she had taken to save him had left her with nights filled with terrors only he could wake her from early, for reasons the Dalish witch had promised to look for.

A loud creak from the rusted hinges of the door downstairs caught his attention, and he dashed over to the top of the staircase. The brief flash of hope faded swiftly when he saw the sodden mabari limping over his threshold, overtaken by renewed fear. "Wolf?"

The warhound whined, taking another obviously pained step towards the warrior. Rainwater dripped out of his rough fur onto the broken tiles, tinged by dark mud and something worryingly red as it puddled beneath him. Fenris knelt when he reached the dog, carefully running his hand over the furry side. Wolf whined again, nosing plaintively against the elf's neck. Jagged edged gashes bled sluggishly across the length of his belly and chest, and Fenris gingerly picked stray shards of glass from shallower wounds along his muzzle and face. The dog whimpered, and lifted a heavy forepaw for inspection, blood dripping around the wide chunk of plate glass imbedded deep into the pad. Fenris pulled it out carefully, Wolf's head thudding back into his chest as he yelped.

He bound the paw up well enough to slow the bleeding, and ran a hand softly over the ragged edge of one cropped ear, eyeing the whip welts evident over Wolf's haunches and the deep lines through the softer skin of his belly. "Went through a window to get out, I'd imagine. How you found one big enough… Did she send you to get me?" He inquired in a calm tone, though the back of his mind was screaming in panicked what-ifs and maybes.

Wolf hung his head, and whined again, trying to get back to his feet. Fenris pushed him gently back down, and fetched enough rags to bandage the deepest of the gashes, nudging the dog back down again when he returned. "Easy. No good to her or anyone if you kill yourself. The Templars still have her then?" he asked. Another desperately sorrowful whine and a cold nose against his elbow, and his spine went cold as one possible what-if came flooding to the front of his mind. "She's… She's not tranquil, is she?"

Wolf shook his head, pulling his muzzle back out of Fenris's grip and trying to struggle back to his feet before crumpling down with a pained yelp. "I suppose you won't be storming the gates of the Gallows with me any time soon, not without a healer's help," He muttered, settling into his armor as fast as possible. Then the last words occurred to him again, and he froze, snarling at the thought. There was a healer, admittedly talented, just a short trip into Dark town away. Said healer was also likely to know a much quieter way into the tower than his half-formed storm the gates idea. Unfortunately, given his last encounter with said healer… This was not going to go well.

"What are the chances I'm going to regret bringing him into this?" Fenris grumbled, hefting the large dog carefully as he stalked down the streets. Wolf barked, and swiped his tongue over the elf's cheek. "Yes, well, you weigh a good bit more than she does. So unless you want to try walking again, do not encourage my bad feelings about this." Wolf whimpered, and Fenris sighed, shifting the weight between his increasingly sore shoulders. "You're lucky I can carry you at all. I hate these markings, but the abilities are occasionally useful."

He slunk into the clinic, which was mercifully empty of patients at the early dawn hour, and deposited Wolf onto the nearest cot. The bandage over his paw was oozing blood, and the belly wrappings were starting to soak through. He ran a soothing hand over the dog's withers, working to stretch out his aching muscles before striding back towards the small room Anders used as an office and bedroom. He considered a moment, and then kicked at the door, breaking the small, cheap latch with ease.

The former warden bolted upright, scrambling for his staff, only to see it against the wall behind the evidently angry elf with a very large sword. Justice stirred in the back of his mind, but stilled again at the thought that Fenris's anger was at the least justifiable. The warrior glared at him, even as he slowly sheathed his greatsword.

"I require your assistance, mage. We… he…" Fenris gestured at Wolf, sprawled on the cot, and the mabari whimpered, lifting his head wearily to watch the pair.

Anders eyed the crude bandages, and walked forward with a sigh to undo them and lay a glowing hand over the gashes. "Surprised Hawke sent you here with him instead of doing this herself. Or instead of just sending you to kill me, the way she was the last I saw her."

"She can't." Fenris came forward to stand by the mage, resting a reassuring hand on the dog's head. "She's not demontaken," he added, his keeping his voice carefully calm. "But the Templars took them both when we sailed back. He dragged himself to my door today before dawn."

"So they've had her for what… two days?" Anders asked as he pulled out tiny glass shards and worked to heal the cuts over the dog's face.

"Three, now." Fenris stared out what passed for a window at the golden mid-morning light.

"My sources tell me our beloved Knight Commander was furious over Hawke taking off without asking her, and she was taking it out on the Tower. If Hawke has been in her grasp that long after that, you'll be lucky if she just turned her over to the other Templars." The blond mage finished his work almost absently, speaking thru gritted teeth. He wiped Wolf's blood off his hands onto the rough blanket on the cot, and glanced up at Fenris. The elf just stroked reassuringly at the mabari's ears, trying not to look at Anders as something the former warden couldn't read flickered in his green eyes. Anders' hands fisted white-knuckled into the stained cloth, and he glared at the warrior. "On the other hand, given your prejudices against us, you would probably prefer her Tranquil. No more magic, no more problem. It would certainly stop her ever arguing with you again. Of course, it would also mean everything else that mattered about her is gone too, but as long as she isn't an evil mage anymore, you'll be overjoyed."

* * *

><p>please review? reviews do make me want to type faster...<p> 


	18. Chapter 18

okay, new chapter. my muse (... and my newish kitten) have decided to work with me, instead of blocking me (and sitting on the keyboard) i do have a buffer chapter now, so reviews may garner swifter updates, for a while any way.

* * *

><p>Fenris snarled, and lunged over the cot at the sneering mage. Hauling him up by the collar, he shoved him back against the wall, slamming his head into the stone. "I would never… Do not ever insinuate I would prefer her thus. She, as she is, is everything to me. She is… She is lightning and laughter and a storm breaking. For her to be made into one of those empty husks would be an obscenity." Anders coughed in the elf's glowing grasp, cowering, and the warrior released him to slide down the wall. "I came here to ask for your help, mage. You know the ways into the tower, the underground passages." Fenris dropped his gaze, seating himself heavily next to the dog. "I… I cannot save her alone. I shouldn't have let them take her from me. I did not think…"<p>

"Obviously," Anders muttered, climbing back to his feet. He gave the elf a long measuring stare, and sighed heavily. "I'll help you. Maker knows I don't want to see her turned tranquil and paraded around like a hollow trophy any more than you do." Hope flickered into the green eyes before him, and he cleared his throat. "But then I'll need your help later with a …. Project of mine. Favor for a favor."  
>"If she is safe, consider it done." Fenris agreed swiftly, already rising to his feet as the mabari ambled to the door.<p>

The mage blinked at the warrior's easy agreement. He had expected at least one question about the nature of the favor. "Well, then," he stated, grabbing his staff, "the nearest tunnel entrance is this way."

* * *

><p>It had started as a quiet enough conversation, seated in Meredith's office. The knight Commander had asked a number of intense questions, but none Lupa couldn't invent seemingly satisfactory answers to, or reply to with equally satisfactory edited truths. Eventually Meredith had sighed, and smiled slightly at the mage sitting across from her. "And I suppose you considered this… little excursion of yours completely necessary."<p>

"Well, I could hardly have let them drag him off to Tevinter, could I? He's my friend. And from all I've heard of Tevinter and the magisters… What they do is beyond terrible. It's nearly unthinkable."

"I can easily think of the atrocities mages are capable of, but I think I see your point. Would you like some tea?"

"Ah, the fabled trappings of civilization. A cup of tea would be lovely, Knight Commander. And might I trouble you for a bowl of water for Wolf here?" The mabari looked up at his name, and Lupa ran an affectionate hand over his head.

Meredith snapped her fingers, and her assistant bowed and left silently. The mage shuddered at the sight of the forehead brand and empty eyes that marked the emotionless, possibly soulless Tranquil, but held her tongue. No sense aggravating the Knight Commander more than necessary.

"I trust you at least enjoyed your outing?" Meredith asked, sorting through the thick sheaf of documents that covered her desk.

"Rescue missions aren't exactly holidays, but as everyone got back in one piece, it wasn't too bad. The sea voyage back was entertaining enough, I suppose." Lupa shifted in her seat, glancing gratefully over at the door as it opened. The Tranquil entered with all deliberate speed, setting a tray with a pair of already filled delicate tea cups on the desk and a small tin bowl of water on the floor.

Meredith shuffled her papers off to one side of her desk and took the cup closer to her, sipping slowly at the fragrant liquid. Lupa lifted the remaining cup, and inhaled. Mint and black tea leaves, with something else she thought she should know. At the knight commander's expectant look, she took a careful swallow, then rested the cup beside her. There was a not entirely unpleasant tang to the tea, probably from the herb she hadn't figured out yet. At her feet, Wolf lapped heavily at his water, and snorted strangely, shaking his head.

"You have an answer for everything, don't you, Champion?" Meredith asked, regarding the mage before her with a steely gaze.

Lupa felt her mouth go dry, and gulped at her tea. "Would you prefer it if I was unable to answer your myriad inquiries?"

"Perhaps." She smiled again, darkly. "How do you like your tea?"

"I…" A wave of dizziness swept over the mage, as she felt her magic fade from under her grasp. "Magebane." She whispered, glancing down to see Wolf stagger, his legs trembling, then crumpling under his weight. "You put magebane in the tea. And something in his water… But…"

"I hope you enjoyed your outing, because it's going to be your last time outside these walls for a very long time." The knight Commmander finished her tea, and watched the trembling mage try to keep her balance. "Consider yourself under lockdown, Champion."

"The.. The Grand Cleric said…"

"Grand Cleric Elthina is on a visit to Starkhaven regarding Brother Sebastian. She won't be back until the end of the week. I strongly suspect you will be seeing things my way by that time." She snapped her fingers, and the door opened again, this time for three heavily armored Templars. They paused just past the threshold, eying the half conscious Champion and the drugged dog as they waited for orders. "Escort the Champion to her new quarters and do something with the cur." She instructed, and two of the Templars roughly hauled Lupa to her feet, keeping hold of her shoulders. The last one grabbed Wolf's collar, dragging the whimpering dog out of sight past the doorway.

Lupa watched dully, before Meredith grabbed her chin and pulled her face close. "You have been a thorn in my side for entirely too long. All your flaunting of yourself and your curse before Kirkwall and Hightown has made the mages restless with the proper order. It is past time that you found out you're nothing but a mage who has forgotten her place." She stepped back, letting the mage go limp in the Templars' grip, and looked grimly to the older of the knights. "Sir Karras, I trust your judgment in making sure she learns the rules here as quickly as possible. If she proves obdurate… I still trust your judgment in deciding an appropriate response."

The Templar grinned darkly. "As you'd have it, Knight Commander. Any limits on these appropriate responses?" His grip slipped deliberately lower, across the front of the corset Isabela had lent her.

"You are not to do anything that ends in her death. I need her broken, not martyred. Beyond that I have already stated I trust your judgment. Begone." Meredith returned to her desk, studying the stacks of paper as the Tranquil carefully removed any trace of the apostate from the room.


	19. Chapter 19

okay, new chapter, because both my muse and kitten leto are still being cooperative. this posting regularily thing might last for another week or so, considering i just finished chapter 21's first draft. reviews are still, as always. exceedingly welcome.

* * *

><p>Lupa stared blankly at the tiny barred window at the top of her small cell. From where she sat on the dank straw mattress that passed for a bed, she could see just a flicker of blue sky and wandering clouds. Somewhere through what remained of the mage bane haze, she wondered if her friends would miss her, and how long it would take them to realize she wasn't coming back without help.<p>

Fenris would miss her. That she knew with the same certainty she had that the sun rose in the east. Once they had stopped fighting the sparks between them, talked like they had after he had made certain of her not being possessed, it had been perfect, like finding the other half so often storied. Even when they had been spending more time arguing than not, in those first few years, she had been happier when he was there, and his near constant presence at her heels had argued he felt the same.

They had finally found each other, realized what they had, only to be separated because she was stupid enough to drink something someone she knew hated her offered. She should have known better than to drink it. She had known something was off about the entire damn scene, but she hadn't thought Meredith would have gone that far. Stupid moment one, she mused, trusting a Templar farther than she could throw her without magic.

Maker damn it, Fenris would miss her. She knew him, knew how her disappearance would hurt him, badly. "He'll blame himself." She whispered, "Blame himself for them taking me, when it was my stupid decision to go with them."

She heard armored footsteps from down the hall, and tensed, snarling. She had to get out of here, find Wolf, and get back to her mate where she belonged. Her magic hadn't returned yet, but they hadn't taken her knife. The iron door to her cell creaked open and she lunged.

Her knife found purchase in the shoulder joints of heavy plate armor, ripping a line into flesh as her weight and momentum drove him back. The Templar cursed and grabbed for her, dropping the tray of food he had brought. She snatched at it as it fell, heedless of the bread scattering everywhere, tossing the pitcher-full of water into his face to blind him before slamming the heavy tray into his head. He dropped like a stone, and she scrambled out into the hall, bare feet skidding across the tiles.

She heard a familiar fierce bark from down the hall, and charged in its direction, grinning for a moment. Lupa slid through the doorway, and froze, the grin falling from her face. Wolf was cornered by four lash wielding Templars, ugly welts rising on his coarse furred back. One of the knights turned at her shocked gasp, and Wolf leaped, fangs sinking into an unprotected neck. The others startled back for just a moment at the one's death, and the mabari bolted, racing to meet his mage in the hall as they both ran on.

Three floors down and endless twists of hall later, she found hope again. A large glassed window at nearly ground level looked out onto the courtyard. She paused to catch her breath, and a crossbow bolt whistled past her ear. She turned, and a mailed fist slammed into the side of her skull. Lupa staggered, going to her knees as armored fingers wrapped around her neck. Wolf skidded to a stop, looking back even as another crossbow bolt nicked his ear.

"Go!" she screamed, and the mabari hound hesitated for just a second, for one last long look at the mage before he leaped out through the glass, shattered shards pattering down in a musical fall around him.

Ser Karras watched the dog's escape passively, his grip tightening absently around the dazed mage's throat. "Now, now, Champion," he admonished when she tried fighting free of his hand, almost idly breaking the fingers desperately trying to pry his off her skin. "Escaping is very much against the rules here. In my trusted judgment, this requires severe punishment." He tightened his grip fractionally, smiling as she choked, her golden eyes wide and frightened in a flushed face. Just as her vision started to gray and blur, he released her, slamming her back into the stone wall as the other Templars caught up. "I think I'll enjoy breaking you," he laughed, as she slid to the floor, gasping for breath.

* * *

><p>"Are you certain this is the right way this time, mage?" Fenris asked as they turned down yet another winding tunnel. Wolf ran easily at his side, maneuvering over the broken terrain with only a slight favoring of his mended paw.<p>

"For the hundredth time, yes, I'm sure this is the right way. The scuffle with those lyrium smugglers just made me lose my bearings for a moment. But I know where we are now, and so I know which way we need to go, no thanks to your constant griping." Anders grumbled, leaning on his staff as he compared the trail to his mental map.

"Of course. And did they also cause you to lose your bearings the other three times we ended up in dead ends? Just as a point of reference."

"I swear, if I didn't think she would kill me for it when she found out, I'd just sic Justice on you and go home. You asked for my help, now live with it." Anders snapped, and flinched, eyes bluing for a brief second.

"I asked for your help because I thought you knew the way, and I didn't want to waste time tracking down Varric or Isabela at that time of night. And because… Venhedis."

"And spent twice as long lost, without even the mutt to help you find her." Anders flinched again as Justice flickered momentarily to the surface. When his eyes were back to their normal brown, the former warden sighed heavily. "I'm sorry. The tunnels are confusing, even with how often I've been down here. It's part of why they're perfect for smuggling, lyrium in and mages out." Anders looked up, to see Fenris watching him, a questioning look in his green eyes, and forced a reassuring smile. "We'll find her. Even with the Grand Cleric out of contact, Meredith wouldn't dare order her made Tranquil without approval."

"Yes, but what of short of that?" Fenris inquired, as they pushed on, his tone worried.

"Well, best case scenario? She's already on her way out. Second best is she's locked in one of those dank cells they consider rooms, probably under solitary confinement, since considering her reputation I doubt they'd just let her out with the other mages. And given her feelings about confined spaces, she's likely not happy, but otherwise okay."

"Quite likely," the warrior quipped, and reached a hand back to help the mage up over a steep ledge. "And any less than best case scenarios?"

Anders shook his head. "None I feel comfortable speaking out loud," he muttered, eying the elf quietly for a moment. "Let's just go back to 'we'll find her and she'll be fine'"

"Ah." Fenris fell silent for a moment as he followed the blond. "In that case, I am…grateful you agreed to help. Should she be less than fine, your talent at healing will be welcome, as may be your… passenger's talent at destruction."

"Not calling Justice a demon anymore?" Anders noted the sour look the elf sent his way, and decided not to make an issue of it. "At any rate, I think that was the nicest thing you've ever said to me, so thanks. I guess."


	20. Chapter 20

well, i was going to hold this chapter hostage until someone reviewed, but i figured people are still favorite-ing this, so i might as well hand over the next little bit of the story.

* * *

><p>They were almost to the lower reaches of the Tower when Wolf began snarling quietly. The warhound froze, sniffing the air, before stalking towards a side tunnel. Realizing the men weren't following him, he heaved a deep canine sigh and walked back just far enough to grab the hem of the mage's robe and pull him in the right direction. They got the drift fairly quickly.<p>

The mabari led them around a short twist, nose plastered to the ground until he stopped short behind a small pile of stalagmites. Fenris followed carefully to where Wolf crouched, teeth bared in a silent snarl, and peered through the rocky cover. The instant he saw what the dog was looking at, he understood the snarl perfectly, and felt it replicated on his own face.

"What is … " Anders started to ask, silenced by a lifted hand and a glare. The elf pointed silently to the sight before them, and began inching his way closer, a look of desperation on his face. Anders looked, and cursed under his breath.

Hawke was bound in the center of the room, her stripped form covered in darkening bruises and cuts, blood seeping from where the narrow gag dug into the sides of her lips. Templars surrounded her, arranging sets of evil-looking tools, and a sunburst shaped branding iron was heating in a brazier. The Templars nearest her were arguing, and when Fenris got close enough to distinguish the raised voices, his blood ran colder.

"I say we do it now, no sense giving the mage bane a better chance to wear off. Once she's Tranquil, she'll do anything you ask, or so Alrik used to say." A bearded blond argued, gesturing between the heating brand and the silently weeping mage.

"That's why we should wait. I want another turn with her still trying to fight back." The dark-haired man next to him leered at her, even as another Templar seated himself next to her.

"Doesn't matter what you two want. This is Sir Karras's game, and he'll decide what to do with our pretty here." The speaker ran gauntleted fingers over her tear streaked face, slapping her roughly when she flinched back.

Fenris started forward, his eyes murderous, but Anders pulled him back into cover, hand over his mouth as another group of Templars strode past, only a few feet away yet oblivious to the three crouched behind the low rock formation. The instant they were past easy earshot, the warrior spun on the mage, who held his hands up appeasingly.

"Look, if we just charge in blindly, we'll get slaughtered, and that wouldn't help her much, would it? There are too many of them, we need a plan, or a distraction, or something. We should have brought the others," Anders hissed, trying to hold both the elf and the dog back, even as he fought the blue light back from his eyes.

"And what does Justice say to that, mage? To letting them break her while we watch?" Fenris snarled, glaring between the warden and the circle of Templars.

The mage sighed. "He's on the same page you are, and angrier than he has been since we killed Sir Alrik. I'm keeping him back as much as I can, but…"

Fenris glanced back at the Templars at Lupa's despairing scream, paled, and pulled free of Anders's grip, falling into his own glowing form. "Then stop," he growled, and strode into the Templars midst, sword raised.

Spinning and slashing frantically, he tried to reach her as the Templars added lyrium to the heating brazier, pouring it over the red glowing iron. The Templars nearest her had pulled her back against the stone, tightening her bonds as she fought, her gag fallen around her neck. The outer ring of the armored men fell swiftly before his glowing sword, but the others turned to slow his progress. A lucky blow slid through his guard, slicing open a line that barely missed his eye. He returned the blow with interest, hacking deep into the Templar's neck. Too slow, he thought frantically, as Ser Karras stepped out from behind the rock, holding a bowl of liquid that shimmered with thick lines of lyrium. Bright blue light flashed behind him, as Justice sent Templars flying, but a few still stood in his way. As he fought, his gaze flickered back over to Lupa, hoping to at least have disrupted their ritual.

Her eyes were fixed desperately on his face, even as Ser Karras began tracing lines over her forehead with the mixture. When the Templar reached for the branding iron, she blinked, fresh tears trailing down her tattooed cheeks, and mouthed "love you".

Fear and desperation gave him a fresh burst of speed, and he slammed into the Templar just as the top edge of the sunburst brand brushed across her skin. The iron went skidding over the floor, and Fenris shoved the Templar down, a glowing hand sliding through his armor. "You will not harm her while I am here. I will not allow it." He snarled, fingers wrapping around the knight's heart.

Ser Karras glanced back towards the mage, and started a harsh, coughing laugh, even as the elf's grip tightened. "Allow it or not, knife-ears, it's done. Don't worry, I'm sure Meredith will still let you fuck her. Most of us have already had a taste."

Fenris looked back as well, and saw his love unconscious in the pool of spilled liquid lyrium around the fallen bowl, the lines drawn over her skin glowing dully around the broken points burned angry red into her forehead. "No… no no no…" He turned his gaze back to the Templar, teeth bared as he dug his other hand into his chest, scraping slowly along the ribs and organs, watching as the knight flinched at every new pain. "This is for the bruise on her cheek," he whispered, and snapped one of the ribs from the inside. Karras screamed, and the hand left his heart to wrap through his throat, crushing his larynx until the scream died to a strangled squeak. "This for her blackened eye," and another rib snapped. "For everything you let them do to her…" he hissed, methodically snapping rib after rib, driving the broken points into any organ he could reach. Dimly, he felt the edges of bone cutting into his palms, as he could hear Justice ranting and wrecking destruction yet behind him, but ignored it in favor of slowly turning the Templar's insides to a bloody pulp. When his work no longer produced even a twitch, he pulled back, staring at his bleeding palms for a moment.

He crawled to the rock she had been bound to, pulling her into his arms as he crouched, heedless of the lyrium mix soaking into his leathers or the broken pieces of pottery under him. Careful of his hold on her, he removed his breastplate, letting the metal hit the floor as he began undoing his tunic. Footsteps sounded quietly towards him as he slid out of the leather and gently wrapped it around her bruised, limp form.

"I'm sorry. Is she…" Anders sat heavily on the rock, carefully stepping around the lyrium on the floor on the way, and eyed the dim glowing lines around the burn. "I thought… damn it. She was the Champion of Kirkwall, and they just… I'm sorry." He watched Fenris covering Hawke with his tunic, and sighed. "Do you really think she'll care at this point?" he asked sorrowfully, healing the still bleeding gash along the warrior's cheekbone to a thin scar.

"I care," Fenris said flatly, and resettled the unconscious mage to a more normal posture in his lap, her head falling back against his shoulder. "I am sorry, amica mea, I should have been faster…" He ran his fingers over the burn on her forehead, yanking them back at the strange pulling sensation he felt. "Amica mea?" he whispered, and brushed his fingers over the burn again, this time phasing as he did. The odd sensation resumed, the lines on her face dimming momentarily. Then they flashed bright, and the feel of being pulled turned to the feel of falling.

When the flash of light dimmed, Anders saw Fenris out cold, Hawke still nestled in his arms, and all the lyrium pooled on the floor under them gone. Wolf stalked over by them, shaking the blood from his muzzle, just as Anders reached out to trace the lines where the mixture had been painted over her face. The mabari growled softly, startling the mage into falling back, and stepped pointedly between the warden and the sleeping pair.

"You realize that this is hardly a good sign, right?" Anders muttered, and slapped his own face. "Oh, Andraste's frilly knickers why am I even trying to talk to the dog … " Wolf shot him a highly offended look, and lay down with his head over Fenris's feet, still watching the mage.

* * *

><p>okay, i gave you this chapter. you could have 21 as soon as sunday or monday if people review. otherwise i'll probably make you wait a week or so.<p> 


	21. Chapter 21

thanks to the overwhelming number of reviews (for me), here's the next chapter.

* * *

><p>The ground, though it looked like solid stone, was springy, almost squishy under his feet. Fenris looked up at the black structure hovering endlessly far above him, and flinched. "This is the fade, then?" he spoke out loud, and flinched again at the many muted echoes bouncing back from across the featureless expanse. He stepped forward, trying to ignore the alien feel of the mutable surface under his bare feet, and froze as the landscape changed. The ground rumbled, tall buildings rising up, surrounding him until he stood in a slightly twisted version of Danarius's courtyard. "What new trickery is this?" He asked, even as a door formed and cracked open in the palace before him.<p>

"New trickery, old trickery, it's all the same, really. Would you like to come in?" a voice chuckled, all growling silk that set Fenris's nerves on edge.

"Do I have a choice in the matter?"

"Oh, one always has a choice. Sometimes there's just not much for alternatives," the voice answered, even as the courtyard walls began slowly closing in on the elf. Fenris watched the walls resignedly for a moment as they slid towards him, and stepped cautiously through the door, which had obligingly opened further. A tall elf with long dark hair beaded and braided sat behind Danarius's desk, watching him with tangible amusement, chin resting in the cup of his clawed hand. "Of course it's always important to emphasize the right choice, but that's the way of life, I suppose."

"Who are you?" the warrior asked, "and why all this?"

"Aww, and the mongrel guessed who I was right away. I thought she'd mentioned me to you in your little heart to heart."

"The dread wolf then, who haunted my beloved's sleep. Yes, she mentioned you."

Fenharel laughed, tilting the cushioned chair back to settle clawed, digitigrade feet carelessly on the polished desk. "Also the only reason she was able to save you from the disturbing individual who's domicile I have co-opted here, if that matters to you. As to your second question, it amuses me, which is the best reason I've ever found to do anything."

"Where is Lupa? If you have harmed her…"

"Easy, mortal. I haven't done anything to your precious mage." The trickster snorted, and then smiled. "Today, at any rate. I even left her alone the few times those pesky Templars let her sleep. Largely because they had her magebaned into near insensibility anyway, but I think I should still get credit for the thought." Fenris glared, and Fenharel's grin widened, showing the sharp points of his fangs. "As to where she is, that is a good question."

Fenris carefully seated himself on the bench that rose behind him, eying the other elf warily. "Do you have an answer to it?"

The Dread Wolf shrugged, leaning back even further in his commandeered chair. "She's here. Well, here and there and a few other places, but here is as good a place to start as any."

"Is there a way to make you cease speaking in riddles?" The warrior asked grumpily, making the other start laughing again.

"Oh, but I like riddles. Very well, in plainer speech. Your mate's soul was shredded by the ritual the Templars began, shattered and scattered across the fade. Well, the part of it that is mine at any rate, I managed to keep them from flying too far. You are quite lucky that you managed to disrupt it when you did, if the full brand had been applied, most of her soul would have been destroyed. I wouldn't have liked that very much, given that it is promised to me."

Fenris froze, staring at the smirking spirit. "What?"

"Ah, did she leave out the detail of exactly what it cost her to rescue you? I didn't claim it then, of course. It's more of a lien. When she dies, her soul becomes mine to do anything I wish with, at least until I get bored and devour it for the power." Green gold eyes regarded the elf before them with a sort of amused contemplation for a moment. "Considering there is no way for her soul to reform itself without help, much less return to its shell, I suppose this counts. If I manage to find enough of her to patchwork her back before you have to wake up, I'll bring her by so you two can say good bye. How does that sound? Fair enough?"

"You can't just…"

"I can, I probably will. Tracking the fragments down and piecing them back together into even the least functional manner is going to take entirely too much of my time and energy as is. Putting her back into a form that can return to its body without simply devolving into a gibbering wreck would put her debt far over what even her soul is worth." He let the mortal consider that for a moment, and rose. "Now, as lovely as this chat has been, I realy should be on my way. Unless of course, you have something to make changing my mind worthwhile?" He watched the emotions flickering through the elf's green eyes, and restrained a smile.

"What would my soul be worth?" came the hesitant inquiry before he reached the door.

"That is a very interesting question. Normally, mundane souls aren't worth nearly as much as those of mages, but then your soul does come with all that delectable lyrium laced through it." Fenharel strolled back, and rested clawed fingers on Fenris's bare shoulders as he whispered into the elf's ear. "Not enough to buy your lady love's soul back from me entire, but definitely enough to get my attention." Fenris flinched back violently from the close contact, and the trickster laughed.

"So what will you deal for, then?" The elf asked, traces of hope entering his tone.

"Deals are well enough, but I was thinking of something more along the lines of a wager. A game, with a riddle or two thrown in." the Trickster suggested, and reappeared in the chair, feet propped on the desk. "I may have mentioned finding the pieces of her soul would be tedious, even for me. Seven pieces, seven nightmares, five of hers and two of yours in this charming section of my realm. Search your hearts, defeat her inner demons and yours , find them all, bring them back before your body must wake, and I'll put her back together, and you'll never be truly apart again. Fail to find all of her in time, and neither of you will ever leave here."

"So either I find her or I lose both of our souls?" Fenris whispered, still seated on the bench.

"If you're really so very attached to your soul, you're quite welcome to walk out that door and wait to wake up. I won't keep you. True, if you lose I'll likely have your soul for my dessert, lyrium stains and all, but if you win, you and your pretty Lupa will wake up in time to scurry home for dinner. I'll even let those dark nightmares of hers stop for good. It's your choice, really. " He flicked a hand, and the door back to the courtyard opened wide, as was the courtyard gate visible through it. Another door creaked open in the wall behind him, as the Trickster offered a roll of parchment. "Would you like this in writing?"


	22. Chapter 22

Well, my muse is being moderately consistent, so i'm back to posting when i finish a chapter ahead. of course, reviews and responses help keep me typing instead of just hovering on farmville 2. or whatever else online catches my admittedly short attention span.

* * *

><p>Fenris took the parchment gingerly, seeing the elaborate Arcanum runes without managing to read any of them. "What am I to do with this?" he protested, but found only an empty room with a pair of doors and an overturned chair behind a polished Tevinter desk amid faint echoing laughter. With a growl, he tossed the useless document back onto the desk and glanced once back at the door to the open courtyard. He took a deep breath, and walked through the opaque white light of the inner door.<p>

Through the door was an overgrown, weed-choked round garden, with six more doors set around the encircling wall covered in dying and dried vines. Fenris eyed the dead thorny shrubs that covered most of the center of the area, and tried the nearest door, which opened easily, shoving a veil of light like the one he had just passed through.

On the other side was a neat little house near the edge of a small village. The walls and picket fence were neatly whitewashed, the shutters painted, the roof freshly thatched, except that a tiny section near the back of the house was even newer than the rest. Through the open windows, he could hear raised voices, a strange man and a woman who sounded vaguely familiar. He let himself into the small yard through the open gate, and found a tiny child climbing out through a half-open window. Two thirds of the way out, her grip on the windowsill slipped, and she thudded into the thorny rose bush underneath.

Without thinking, he dashed forward, carefully helping the toddler to extricate herself without shredding her skin. Once he had her clear, he set her down on her feet, crouching next to her to dust off the dried leaves that stuck to her worn smock.

"'T'ank you," she mumbled, and regarded him solemnly with large clear golden eyes, her burgundy hair tucked back into two neat ribbon-tied braids. "You're an elf, like Papa an' Gran Gran an' Gampa Hawke. You have pretty ears," she stated with all the tact usually ascribed to very small children. Then she reached a tiny hand out and curiously touched the brands on his chin. "Why you got marks?"

"A magister… an evil mage hurt me, a long time ago." She looked sad at that, sitting down in the garden dirt and looking up at the house. The volume of the argument increased further, and he was able to distinguish words and phrases here and there, "little monster", "only a child", "danger to everyone in the house" and "our daughter" being the clearest. He sighed, and sat beside her.

"Mamae's mad." She told him, in a very subdued tone, tilting her head towards the house. The angle of her head gave him a clear view of the bruise across her cheekbone, and he suppressed a growl.

"Do you know why?" he asked as gently as he could.

The girl nodded sadly. "I had a bad dream, an' then lightning came an' my bed was burning. Mamae got mad, an' then I had a badder dream an' the lightning was worse. Mamae says it's cause I'm a monster."

"What does your papa say?"

"Papa says it means I'm a mage like him. Are mages monsters?" She looked up at him, those golden eyes filling with tears.

"Not all of them, little one." He reassured her, brushing a flyaway lock of hair out of her eyes.

"But you said a mage hurt you…"

"He was evil because he was evil, not just because he was a mage. Do you think your Papa is a monster?"

"No. He's nice. He heals people, an' so does Gran Gran. Do you think I could heal people an' be good when I'm big?" She looked hopeful, and Fenris had to smile.

"I think you can, if you can learn not to set your bed on fire." He ruffles her hair, and thinks suddenly about the child his Lupa had lost, of whether a daughter of theirs would have had this same easy, precocious charm, the same easy trust. Then he caught sight of the bruise on her cheek again, and wondered when his mage had lost the faith in people her memory showed. She leaned into his touch, only flinching back when the woman's voice screeched her name from the house.

"Lupa Danthera Hawke! You get back here this instant you little monster!"

Fenris glanced down at the frightened child, and shifted to place himself between her and her fears. "I won't let her hurt you," he whispered, "I won't let anyone hurt you."

He glanced warily back at the house, and the little girl hugged him tightly. "Thank you, Fenris" she told him, her voice and image fading even as he turned back. He blinked, reaching for where she had been, and a translucent hand brushed over his face.

A ghostly version of his Lupa stood, watching him with patient adoration in her eyes. "I love you," he told his mage, and reached up to place his own hand over her incorporeal limb where it rested on his cheek. She smiled silently at him, and rested her forehead against his.

The house and yard shimmered around them, and vanished, leaving them back in the garden. The dry thorny twists of the shrubs in the center had receded enough to reveal a polished stone bench under a rickety arbor. The fragment of Lupa sat there, examining the nearest shrub. When he approached her, she looked up, smiling, and held up a single finger before pointing at the next door and making a shooing gesture.

The next door was surrounded by new sprouting vines, the brick under them seeming freshly scrubbed and patched. Through the white light, a thick forest loomed, with a few fluffy white sheep and gangly goats meandering the small sheltered meadow just beyond. They seemed unwatched and had certainly been so for some time, given their unkempt and burr covered state, yet were content enough to remain in the thickly grassed meadow. In their midst, half hidden by a small hillock, was a small satchel lying half upended, a thin book and a few pastry crumbs scattered under it. Nearby was a short, rough carved staff, one that closely resembled a simple shepherd's crook but exuded the feel of lyrium and enchantment that marked a mage's tool.

He followed the heavily trodden trail that led from the fallen belongings back into the woods, noting when dried blood drops and drag lines joined the marks of metal shod feet. They led to a large trampled area, with more blood smears and shreds of torn clothing. Rough-spun strips of fabric, soaked in blood and worse, and a tangle of ripped out burgundy hair, caught on a rough twig.

A sinking feeling in his heart, Fenris followed the tracked path further into the forest, the smell of smoke beginning to seep into the air. Around a long twisted hill, he found himself in a small clearing. A neatly stone paved path led around from the point the trees ended, past a stone edged pond where a few ducks cowered, to a collapsed, smoldering wreck of a cottage.

The smell of smoke mingled with that of death and something horribly like roasting meat. Fenris kept along the trail, until a bolt of lightning came sizzling out from behind the crumbling chimney, barely missing his head.

"That was a warning shot," the skinny, gangly twelve year old snarled, leaning heavily against the stone, singed and bruised. She shoved matted red hair back behind her ears, and glared at him. "You ain't one of those Templars, so go away and I won't cut you open like I'm going to do to them." She raised a familiar knife warningly, but staggered back against the wall on her first threatening step forward.

"You might want to heal yourself first," he suggested, and she hissed a few expletives at him he hadn't thought she knew when grown. "Is that what happened here? Templars?" he asked as she ran a glowing hand over her ankle and calf, still glaring at him with those golden eyes.

"Fuckers tracked me back here, locked me an' Gran in then set the place ablaze. Laughed while they did it, too. Gran got us into the cellar, but one of the supports fell on top of her. She kept screaming, but I couldn't save her. I tried, but I couldn't." she leaned back for a moment, tears coating her cheeks, before she glared at him again. "Why are you here? Nobody 'cept us is 'sposed to know about here."

"I was looking for someone, but got lost in those woods. It doesn't matter now, does it?"

"Guess not." She struggled back up to her feet. "I've got Templars to go kill. Just stay out of my way."

He hesitated as she stalked past him. "Would you like any help with that?" he asked, indicating his sword, "I'm pretty useful in a fight."

She turned back, eying him for a moment, and nodded curtly. He fell into his place behind her, and they walked in silence for a time.

The Templars were camped and drinking, not too far along the path she set, and fell to the ambush and his blade with barely a squeak. She crouched over the one who had fallen first, still stabbing blindly at him until she started sobbing. Fenris knelt next to her and cautiously draped an arm over her shoulder. "Do you feel better now?"

"no…" she whispered. "but I had to, I… Thank you. For helping me" she leaned back into his arm slightly.

"I will always help avenge you, amica mea," he replied.

"I know, beloved." Came her response, as the child before him faded into a ghostly fragment as before. The world around them shimmered, and he was again in the garden.


	23. Chapter 23

well, here we are again. i apologize for the delay, but between anniversary busyness, work, and my muse being slow, it took me a while to get the next chapter done. Farmville 2 and Everquest 2 holiday specials may also be cited as distractions. but then, the long sad waiting for reviews can too. *Clears throat* Not that i would _ever_ try to guilt or coerce response from any of my fine and beloved readers, of course.

* * *

><p>The garden had revived itself further, the thorny bushes around the bench leafing out and the vines on the wall greening and growing. The figure on the stone bench seemed more solid, grinning and waving at him. Then she pointed at a newly uncovered sundial, and motioned at the next door.<p>

Right. Time limit, he remembered, and wondered how much longer he had, even as he shoved his way through the familiar barrier of light.

Another forest, another twisted path. He followed the bloody drag marks, worried over what new pain he would find his beloved in. He found her kneeling over a body, her back to him as she muttered quiet imprecations and complaints. Lupa looked older, late teen years maybe, he thought as he watched her. As he stood there, half hidden by the trees, she pulled another piece of Templar armor off the corpse, tossing it into a pile. When the body was stripped, she stood, still grumbling, and set it on fire with a careless, remorseless, flick of her hand.

Lupa watched it burn in the already blackened patch of ground, hand extended, seemingly unconcerned about the smell, horridly like, yet unlike roasting meat. "Bethy gets us in trouble, but will she help clean up after, noooo, never." She muttered. "Poor innocent Bethany goes and hides behind mother, and I get blamed for her nightmares and get to do all the work. Brat should know better than to go running around and let herself get seen playing with ice. But no, she gets spotted, you lot come snooping, and I end up with three more bodies to hide."

The body crackled and scorched, the skin and flesh peeling back from the bones, the air filled with terrible cracking and sizzling sounds as well as the awful smell. "Of course, this wouldn't have been needed if you had just left my little sister alone. All she wanted was to play in town with the other brats, like a normal child. She should know better than to try having friends by now, sure, just like Carv' should know better than to mention home or us to anyone, but they're ten. You try explaining the concept of life in hiding to a ten-year old. If papa were well, we could just move on, but as things are… we're stuck here, so it's overly curious Templars who have to go." She grumbled, holding the fire impassively.

The last of it fell to ashes in a pile, and she turned, wiping grey and black ash onto a blood soaked dress. Then she spotted him, and swore loudly enough to make Isabela blush. "Fuck. Just what I need, a maker damned witness." She raised a hand crackling with lightning, shaking her head. "Sorry, handsome, but you are in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I can't risk my family."

Fenris held up his hands appeasingly. "A hard task for a fifteen year old, to protect an entire family." He soothed, still staring at the gore she was covered in, the calculating, bitter look in her eyes.

"I'm seventeen, thank you very much. And the protecting is much easier than the cleanup and laying false trails so the other Templars don't know where to start looking."

"So you kill often then?" he asked, trying not to sound judgmental.

"As often as I have to, I guess. And…" she raised a sparking hand again then lowered it. "I've never had to kill anyone who wasn't a Templar and hunting us before." She whispered, her gaze dropping for a moment. "I… Why are you here, anyway?"

"I was looking for someone, and got a trifle lost." He shrugged. "I'd prefer you not kill me, as I have no intention of telling anyone about this even if I get the chance."

She turned from him, collecting the heavy armor plates and loading them into a small hand cart. He joined her, silently helping. "I guess… Help me with sinking this shit in the back fish pond, and I'll think of excuses why I don't need to kill you, too.

"So no one has ever spotted you during …clean up before?" He asked quietly, following her thru the woods.

"No. No one ever comes out to this back-end of beyond. This is past the edge of our farm, and that's on the far edge of nowhere to begin with. Go any further and you end up in the wilds, so you're probably lucky you didn't just wander out into the marshes. The only people who show up here are snoopy Templars, and apparently you."

"That would explain your greeting style. Why do you have to kill the Templars?"

"Pretty boy, you do realize you're pushing your luck, right?" She turned around, giving him a flat look. He offered only a shrug, and she sighed. "Templars are evil." She stated. "If they catch us, they kill us or lock us away in a stone cage for the rest of our lives. I never asked to have magic, neither did Bethany or papa. If I am going to be punished, I'd like it to be for sins I had half of a choice about, instead of what a bunch of idiots did in Tevinter centuries ago. All we want is to live our lives. Papa taught us. We don't deal with demons or fuck with blood magic. But they don't care, we're just monsters to them, so if they find us, they'll kill papa and me, maybe drag Bethy to that tower prison if they think she's young enough to be 'salvageable'. Mother will be punished, maybe killed, for harboring us, and Carver will end up raised by the fucking chantry."

"That sounds rather harsh." Fenris mused, as much to himself as the memory Lupa he followed.

"It's sort of like a small, quiet war, keeping us safe. Or that's what papa says. You're lucky the chantry doesn't have elven Templars, or you'd be in the pile of ash with the others, no matter what you said you were here for. You said you were looking for someone?"

"Yes. We ended up separated, and this seemed to be the right way. I don't suppose you've seen anyone other than Templars around here?"

"Lucky girl, with someone like you looking for her." Memory Lupa snorted, giving him a measuring look over her shoulder as they reached the pond. "If I could get someone like you to look at someone like me…"

"Surely a beautiful girl like you has most of the village boys fawning at her feet." Fenris remarked, giving himself a moment to eye the younger version of his lover before reining himself in.

"See, now you're just trying to keep me from killing you. I have hair like red mud, and yellow eyes. Add in the fact I'm a half-breed, and you get both the humans and elves snubbing me. When I can even get into town without risking the Templars."

"Your hair is not red mud. It's like a fine red wine, burgundy and dark." Fenris shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the image of his Lupa in their pile of blankets the last night on the ship, her hair fanned out across his pillow as she grinned up at him. "And your eyes are golden amber, like the harvest moon or a hunting wolf's. You are beautiful, do not doubt it."

"Pretty and a sweet talker. Wish the boys around here thought like that. That girl you're looking for, she must be something real special. "

"She is everything to me." Fenris reached past the teenager into the cart to grab a chunk of armor and toss it into the pond, watching the ripples spread. "You favor her a little. Maybe more than a little, although she has never threatened to set me on fire."

"I threatened to hit you with lightning at least once in that first year though, love." The voice was the same, but the tone had changed. Fenris turned as the pond shimmered out of sight, as a ghostly hand grazed lightly over his cheek.

* * *

><p>I'll try to have the next chapter up by next week, but no promises.<p> 


	24. Chapter 24

24

Back in the garden, Fenris took a few hesitant steps toward the clearly visible but still translucent Lupa. She crouched by the sundial, hands braced against its edges as she stared at him worriedly. He stepped through the thick leafed bushes to her, reaching a hand out to brush across her face. Her form flickered wildly as his fingers passed through her skin, but she looked up at him with gratitude, brushing her own fingers over his as he whispered comforting phrases in a tone of desperation. "I will save you, amica mea, somehow. I love you, now, always," he told her, running a hand through the intangibility of her hair before turning and heading for the fourth door.

Fenris faced the opaque barrier, tensed himself, and stepped forward. On the other side he found himself in the entry room for the Hawke manor, a dripping trail of muddy rainwater leading forward. He followed, feeling an odd sense of familiarity. The water led up to the landing of the stairs, where it ended in a pile of fluffy blue towels discarded in a careless heap. He paused, crouching to run a hand over their damp edges, the sense of familiarity intensifying. A little further in, and he could hear sobbing, a sound filled with sorrow and near choking despair. His Lupa, on the night he fled her bed like a coward.

He steeled himself, and stepped into her bedroom, seeing her hunched over on herself, shoulders hitching as she cried. "Lupa, amica mea, I…" She glanced up, and a sizzling ball of lightning impacted inches from his face.

"Get out. What, do you want to tell me more reasons why this shouldn't have happened? More reasons I can't be loved? I've heard it before. 'You fuck mages, you don't keep them.' I just, I thought you… Just get out." She took a threatening step towards him, only to stumble, barely catching herself on the post of the bed.

Fenris stepped forward protectively, reaching for the off balance mage. She lashed out when he came within range, but he caught her wrists in either hand, holding them easily away from his unarmored chest. "Am I not to be given even the chance to explain myself, then?"

"What could you possibly say?"

"That I am sorry for how I left you. That I was wrong, wrong about everything I said after you woke. That nothing could be worse than living without you, once I realized I loved you. I was a coward, Lupa. I fled not only the memories but the notion a mage could matter so much to me, after all that was done to me. I… to have treated you thus was unforgivable, I know, but I would try to make it up to you if I could. I do not want to lose you. I am yours, if you would give me another chance." He released her wrists and knelt before her, malachite green eyes staring up at her through the rough cut fringe of his lyrium bleached hair.

Above him, she sniffled, choking back one last sob before kneeling down to rest her head against his, her hands brushing his bangs back out of his face. "One more chance then, if you truly love me. Just…"

"Anything, amica mea." He whispered, a hand reaching up to caress her cheek. She leaned into his palm, golden eyes still veiled with tears.

"Stay?" she asked in a dully hopeful tone. She glanced out the window at the grey predawn sky. "At least the rest of the night, please? I don't want to be alone anymore."

"Of course, Lupa." He told her, even as the back of his mind screamed about how little time he might have left to search the other doors. He rose from his knees, pulling her back up with him, and kissed her tenderly. They ended back on the bed, her head resting on his chest as he ran his fingers through her hair, his other arm wrapped securely around her waist. She nuzzled contentedly at his bare skin before sighing and stretching.

"Mine," she mumbled, burying her face in his neck, one hand going behind his head, fingers tangled in his hair, the other running down his side before toying with his belt.

"Yours," he agreed, and pressed his lips against her hair. Fenris relaxed back against the pillows, Lupa a warm, comforting weight against his skin, his fingers sliding up and down her spine. Her hand in his hair turned to fingers caressing the angled line of his ear and gentle nibbles along his collarbone.

One finger traced along the thin cut just below his eye, and Lupa levered herself upwards to contemplate his face more carefully. "That looks like it hurt. Did you run into trouble while you were out or something?" she asked curiously, even as she retraced it with a spark of healing, watching it close slowly to a thin scar.

"You could say that," he answered carefully. She sniffed, and ran still glowing fingers over the brands on his neck. He groaned as her magic flickered against the lyrium marks, and reached up to catch her wrist.

"I thought…" she started, her other hand frozen against the buckle of his belt. "You liked it when I did that before, didn't you?"

"After all that has happened tonight, do you truly wish this?" he asked, the Templar's last taunting words to him suddenly echoing through his mind.

"All what?" the Lupa curled against him asked, her tone confused. "Yeah, you left, and it hurt like anything, but you came back. No one's ever come back before. And you said you loved me."

Staring into those honestly curious golden eyes, Fenris wanted to smack himself. Of course she wouldn't know what he was talking about. Just because this memory knew him and looked just like the Lupa he remembered, didn't mean she knew of what had befallen his Lupa, or carried the trauma from it. "I… Never mind, amica mea," he soothed, releasing her wrist to stroke along her face, activating his marks just enough to brush the magic lying under her skin.

Her eyes rolled back for a moment, and she leaned further into his touch even as her fingers flickered against his marked skin, sliding lower. He shifted, adjusting her position against him as her nimble fingers flicked open the catch to his belt. The leather of his legging slid back over his hip as he rolled her underneath him, bracing his hands to either side of her face so he could lean down and seal his lips against hers. "Festis bei umo canavarum", he sighed when he pulled back to catch his ragged breath. "You will be the death of me, always, only you." He kissed his way slowly down her bare torso, as her hands slid through his hair to rake lightly over what of his back she could reach. "But somethings are worth dying for."

His brands gleamed in the dim light, small patches of arcane light flickering just under his skin as her glowing palms passed over it. His fingers skimmed over her flesh, using every trick he had learned in those blissful days on the ship ride back, anything to coax those almost whimpering moans out of his lover, the half choked pleas to higher powers, all the sounds that sent pride to his heart and heat to his loins.

He kissed her again deeply before licking along her ear. "Maker, I love you, Fen," she sighed, her fingers wandering in a way guaranteed to distract him in a hurry.

"And I you, my beautiful mage." He whispered as he sank into her, and stilled to catch himself. "Mine." He told her as he finally started to move, and her hips tilted up to meet his.

Her hands laced behind his head, pulling him down for another deep kiss. "Yours," she fervently agreed as he shifted slightly to nuzzle against a rounded breast.

"My only love, and only mine." His heartbeat hammered , and his lungs burned, but the only things registering in his mind was the endless slide of flesh and skin, the ripples and hum of her magic and his lyrium interacting, and the sound of her voice whimpering breathy repetitions of his name and the maker's. She tightened against him again, pulling them both over the edge.

They lay there together for a time in sated contentment, his head pillowed against her chest,  
>feeling each other's breathing and heart return to normal. The golden rose light of early dawn crept through the window, shining highlights over their skins and turning her red hair to dark flame. He ran his fingers idly through it, feeling the soft weight of it against his branded fingers.<p>

"I always loved you, even when you drove me mad. Even when I wanted to throw a full lightning storm at you," Her voice was dreamily contemplative, as he looked up into increasingly worried golden eyes. She blinked at him, and suddenly seemed momentarily more there. "Be careful? I'm not..." Her voice cut off as she faded out from under him, as the room vanished around them.


	25. Chapter 25

i apologize for the long wait. blame it on a stalling muse who wanted me to work on something else, and the lack of reviews didn't help either. reviews tell me people are reading this. people reading this fuel my muses. please and thank you. (on another note, the other project is being posted here too. you should totally read it. it has zev in it! crow's fall)

* * *

><p>He landed with a heavy thump heartbeats later on the stone walkway of the garden, his pants landing on top of him. A quietly phantasmal giggle echoed from next to him, where a still very translucent but animated Lupa sat, watching him. The rose bushes behind her were budding out, climbing luxuriantly over the wood of the trellis.<p>

Fenris clambered back to his feet, yanking his leggings back on and up and hastily redoing his belt. He straightened, grumbling, then gave the amused mage a wry smile. "Not precisely the way I had intended to return."

Lupa made an exaggerated charade of dusting him off before her hand froze over a small scorch mark half-hidden behind his jaw. "Certain of your shades were rather justifiably not thrilled to encounter me in your memories," he shrugged the already mostly healed wound off. She gave him an apologetic look, pulling her hands back, and he smiled as reassuringly as he could. "There are only two doors left, amica mea. I'll be fine. We will get through this."

Lupa glanced up from her study of her own feet at that, a suddenly worried look in her eyes. Her gaze flickered back down as Fenris ran his fingers though the edges of her form, the closest to an embrace he could manage with the incorporeal mage. Just out of his line of sight, her own fingers tapped against themselves as she counted to herself. The worried look in her eyes deepened, and she looked up at him frantically.

Fenris bent his head by hers, and earnestly whispered soothing words to his beloved. "I swear to you, Lupa, I will save you. No matter what."

She opened her mouth, then closed it soundlessly, reaching out a hand to brush wistfully through his hair, a few strands moving under her hand as if caught by a subtle breeze. The worried look in her eyes seemed to only grow at his words, joined by a hint of sorrow.

Fenris placed a hand over hers for a moment, trying to read the uncertain question in her eyes. She pulled back, her fingers passing icily thru his skin, and returned to the bench, staring contemplatively at the sundial, whose shadows had shifted drastically from his last visit. He took a few steps after her departing form, one hand reflexively reaching after her before he caught himself. "I love you," he quietly stated. She looked up, fingers wrapping around and through the stone tightly enough that more substantial knuckles would have paled, and watched him stalk towards the next door.

Beyond the door was only darkness; deeper than the deep roads and blacker than a magister's heart. Fenris kept walking forward, guided by the tiniest trace, the merest flicker of light, burning in a sickly mix of purple and green at the edge of his vision.

Lupa huddled between the swells of unstable ground, one arm wrapped around her knees and the other dangling before her, the sickly light of her branded palm dancing eerie shadows across her flesh. Fenris sat next to her, the blue lights under his skin providing a ghostly glow to the immediate surroundings. She remained still despite his presence, gaze fixed on the smoldering blacklight glow of the pawprint on her hand.

He watched her with growing concern, seeing the claw marks and gashes across her skin, bloodied lines black in the blue light of his lyrium. He reached out carefully, brushing her hair out of a oozing graze along her shoulder. "Lupa?" he asked, louder than he'd intended, and she flinched back from the sudden sound in the silence of the dark. He pulled his hand back at the motion, his markings dimming as the muted echoes of his question faded away, suppressed by the smothering darkness.

The shadows deepened, the dark gleam of the trickster's mark flickering along the threshold of visibility. The very air seemed to thicken as the darkness pressed in upon them, muffling even the steady beat of his pulse.

"You shouldn't be here. " She whispered flatly, still not looking at her lover.

"Where is here?" He asked, trying to reactivate his markings, hoping for some hint of light.

"Just another nightmare. It doesn't matter. You shouldn't have come after me."

"I'm supposed to leave you to the dark?" Fenris started to gesture to their surroundings, and realized he couldn't see anything past his nose in the gloom.

"Nothing the Trickster ever offers is what it seems, beloved. I'm not worth the deal he offered." She shifted her position next to him, and he felt her chilled skin brushing against his brands. He pulled her closer, ignoring the still tacky lines of slow drying blood. She stiffened, pushing against his grasp for a moment before going limp in his arms, burying her face in his neck.

"And if I disagree with your estimation of your own worth?" He asked gently, trying to keep away from the claw marks in her back as he ran a soothing hand over her spine.

"He's not going to let us out of here unscathed. Even if he loses he wins, one way or another. And he's the one holding all of the cards." Her face pressed against his skin again, and he could feel the tears running down her cheeks.

"Then I will at least go down fighting. At least I will have tried to get us home again." He whispered fiercely, and his markings flared back to life, driving the darkness back. "Nothing could be worse than living without you. There was no choice but the one I made. I love you, arguments, magic, jokes and all. You are cor meun cor, the heart of my heart."

"I love you, Fen. You're the only one I've ever tried to give my heart to who hasn't thrown it back in my face, the only one I've ever been able to trust. You have one of the purest souls I've ever known, and the thought of the dread wolf destroying it… I'd rather be tranquil than lose you like that, except it would stop me loving you." She sighed, tears still running down her cheeks as she snuggled closer to the glowing elf. "Cor meun cor, beloved. "

"We will get through this, amica mea. ." Fenris rested his face in her hair, trying to push back his own worries. "As long as we are together, we will get through this."

Lupa snorted, trying to restrain the quiet chuckle that rose to her lips. "I adore the sentiment, beloved, but this is a dream of a memory of a dream. Pleasant as this is, or would be under better circumstances, when you wake from this memory, I'll be just a silent shade again, as increasingly put together as I'm becoming. And there is one thing you've forgotten, love."

"What would that be, amica mea?" Fenris asked, shifting to look his mage in the face.

"The trickster said there were…" even as she spoke, the brand on her palm flared, and she faded back out of solidness, a look of worried irritation on her face. The oppressive darkness swirled away, leaving him back in the blooming garden.


	26. Chapter 26

bwa ha ha. the number of reviews makes me very happy. happy writer (and a green eyed white kitten named leto,) will go work on next chapter now.

* * *

><p>The trickster sprawled languidly on the stone bench, contemplating the sundial's markings, the carved beads braided into his long dark hair clicking in an unfelt breeze.<p>

"Where is Lupa?" Fenris asked, the growl in his voice barely hidden as he tried to control the sudden rush of anger and panic that flooded him at the sight of the Dread wolf in his lover's place.

"Well, what you've found of her is safe somewhere else. I couldn't very well have her keep trying to cheat, could I? This game is between you and me, mortal. And finding the rest of her is really your job, so I'm not telling."

"If you have harmed her…" Fenris snarled, reaching back for his sword. Fen'harel just smiled and flicked a long fingered hand contemptuously. The weapon vanished from the warrior's grasp, and the god arched an eyebrow at the elf's furious expression.

"You either have no sense of urgency or very odd priorities, mortal. Considering how little time you have left in our little wager, do you really want to spend it all arguing with me? I merely removed her shade to somewhere she can't try to interfere from. I should have done it before she came back enough to try communicating, but no harm, no foul." He smiled at Fenris again, displaying entirely too many fangs for easy comfort as he did.

Fenris growled, glaring at the trickster, but stalked towards the last door, the lush grass softening the impact of his footfalls. On the other side of the light, he found himself in a subtly wrong version of Lupa's home.

Assorted papers were strewn across every available surface, with books marked in arcane sigils piled in easy reach of the only clear spot on the divan. Fenris leafed idly through the nearest stack, muttering mild imprecations at the fact that all of them seemed to be in the abomination's hand. Here and there, Lupa's delicate script added notes, comments on phrasing.

From upstairs, he heard Anders's voice, speaking low, and the melody of Lupa's laughter in response. He growled at the sound of it, and stalked upstairs. A distinctly unhappy looking mabari lay sulking at the end of the hallway, barely glancing up as the warrior walked by. He kicked irritably at the pair of staves leaned against a doorframe, before stepping into his mage's bedroom.

The warden mage was seated in a cushioned chair, nibbling along the neck of the redhead curled in his lap. At the sound of footsteps, he glanced up, and sneered. "Hawke, I thought we had agreed to keep the mutts out of our room."

Lupa shifted, looking back over her shoulder curiously, and sighed. "What is it now, Fenris?" she asked in a near exasperated tone. Anders slid a hand further under her robe, causing her to squeak and bury her face into his shoulder. "Really not a good time, Fen," she gasped, even as the blond smirked smugly over her head at the elf.

"Shoo, dog. Your betters are busy. Go keep wolf or whatever she named the other mongrel company, and she'll deal with you when we're done." The ex-warden waved dismissively at the warrior before tugging Hawke further onto his lap. Lupa glanced back at him again, almost apologetically, but was pulled down into a kiss.

Fenris growled under his breath, his markings flaring involuntarily with anger. "Hawke." His fingers dug into the wood of the doorframe as he glared at the mage manhandling his lover. "Come with me. I need your help." He gave her his most pleading look, trying to keep the fury out of his voice as he tried a new tactic.

Lupa tried to lever herself off of Ander's lap, giving the other mage a regretful smile. "Duty calls, sweetie. I'll see you at dinner." Ander's hands locked over her thighs, holding her where she was.

"He can wait till we're done, Hawke." He told her, and glared at the elf in the doorway. "Just because she was stupid enough to sleep with you once does not give you free claim on her time. I don't know why you hang around her."

"Because I love her, and was a fool to ever leave her side. Doubly so if it drove her to you, abomination." Fenris retorted, unable to keep the snarl out of his voice any longer.

Anders surged to his feet, dumping Hawke unceremoniously to the floor in the process. "I have had enough of your interference with my business, elf. Begone, or they won't find enough pieces of you to identify." Magic sparked around the healer, his golden brown eyes gone hard and cold.

"Anders! That is enough." Lupa snapped, scrambling to her feet and placing a restraining hand on the blond's wrist. "Get ahold of yourself. Now. " she ordered. Anders glanced back at her, then yanked himself free of her grasp and backhanded her heavily, sending her sprawling into the bedframe.

"Stay out of this, Hawke. I've had enough of you protecting that feral beast!"

Hawke whimpered, gingerly bringing her fingers to where her head had impacted the wood and pulling them back bloody. "Anders? Fen?" She looked up at the two circling each other, one sparking with magic and the other with brands flaring.

Fenris looked up at her voice, seeing the red trickling out of her hair over her cheek. The abomination threw magic at him, something that burned against the lyrium of his brands, but nothing stopped his forward charge as he phased. His hand twisted inside Ander's chest, fingers settling around the beating muscle just long enough for the look on the warden's face to go from rage to pained fear before his fist clenched.

The former warden dropped, dead before he hit the ground, and Fenris rushed to his mage's side. "Amica mea, are you all right?"

"As well as I'm likely to be," she responded, wincing as she brushed testing fingers across the split in her scalp. She looked between him and the corpse bleeding on her rug, and leaned back before running healing magic over the wound. "You killed him."

"He hurt you." Fenris sat on the bed next to her, surreptitiously wiping the blood off his hand onto less obvious patches of her bedspread. "And you are mine." He added, watching her from under rough cut bangs. Something flickered behind her eyes at that, some tiny grain of recognition, but it was fast buried back under the wary expression this dream wore.

"You left." Came the flat toned reply. "Why would I want anything to do with you?"

"Because no matter how many times I have this nightmare, of losing you to that monster, you were always mine. And when I needed you, you gave everything for me. I'm not leaving you behind again." He moved deliberately closer to her, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, letting her lean back against him. "Because this is a dream and we need to wake up, amica mea."

For a moment, it was completely, entirely her staring back at him, and he smiled. Then the world shimmered into nothing around him, and he found himself in an empty garden. All the doors had vanished except for the one leading back. The sundial still stood in the center, the shadows sliding slowly along the edges.

"But I went through all the doors! I… Seven nightmares, not six." Fenris remembered, and lunged for the door back.


	27. Chapter 27

okay. finally back. my muse took an unexpected leave of absence and left me stranded mid chapter, but i think we're going again.

* * *

><p>The room hadn't changed, still a near identical copy of a magister's study. Near identical, Fenris realized, but not quite the same. Different books lined the shelves, paintings of more delicate subjects hung in more tasteful arrangements. The room still reeked of the abuse of knowledge and power, but the wild rose scent hanging in the air was not something Danarius had favored. Another nightmare from his own mind, and Fenris tried to push back the thought that he knew how this vision played out all too well.<p>

The documents strewn across the desk bore a script and seal all too familiar to the elf, as familiar as the golden staff leaning across the table in the corner. A ruckus sounded from the hallway he knew connected to a magister's private chambers. A voice rose in outraged anger, far more strident than he had ever heard her, but still recognizable.

"Incompetent, worthless cretins! Out, get out all of you!" There was the scrambling of a number of bare feet, the furious slam of a heavy wooden door, and loud cursing. A few moments of silence later, he could hear the door creak slowly back open. "Fenris? Fenris! Get in here!"

Fenris quietly made his way into the hallway, avoiding the scatter of broken glass and crystal. He was back in his leathers, he noted idly. He traced the Hawke sigil carved into the door where Danarius's once sat, then let himself through the half-open door, cursing the trickster for setting his own worst fears upon him. "You called…." He swallowed heavily, "Mistress?"

Lupa was curled sulkily in a large overstuffed chair, dressed in rumpled silk robes in the deep red that marked a healer adept. As he entered she glanced up, fidgeting with the heavy gold medallion that marked her as a full Magister and member of the Imperial senate. "Get this mess cleaned up. Maker knows I can't trust any of those idiots in here alone." She slid from the chair, making a wide berth around the splintered pile of broken glass and spilled wine to avoid staining her slippers. "Can't even trust them to carry a damned tray properly," she muttered. "I'll be in my study trying to make a decent draft of that damned agreement. "

She stamped irritably off, the effect only slightly dampened by the muffling effect of silken slippers on the plush rug in the hall. Fenris sighed, and set about mopping up the wine, carefully avoiding the shards of glass. A few minutes passed, and soft, almost tentative footfalls sounded in the hall again. Fenris glanced up circumspectly through the fringe of his hair, only to find Lupa leaning against the doorway, watching him speculatively.

"I expected you to find one of the cretins I shooed off earlier and supervise."

"They are likely still hiding from your wrath, mistress. I thought it would be faster to finish the task myself," He responded, falling into the placating, appeasing tones he had developed under another magister's temper. "As I was given no specific instructions as to how…" A misjudged swipe landed his bare palm into a pile of shards, and he hissed as glass sliced into his skin. He pulled the injured limb back without thinking, the rag landing in a sodden mess on a previously stain free spot on the rug as blood dripped down his leathers. Lupa stepped towards him, and he flinched back, staring up at her apprehensively. "I'm sorry, mistress. I didn't mean…"

"Oh, for the love of… Come here," she snapped, grabbing his wrist and pulling him insistently into the attached bedroom. She pushed him to sit on the cushioned stool in the center of the room, turning to dig though the assorted containers across the vanity counter. Before Fenris had more than a moment to worry what she could be looking for, she had yanked tiny silver tongs out of a drawer and reached for his hand. "Hold still." She ordered absently, and set about delicately removing the tiny shards from his flesh. "I need to get all of it back out before I can heal you, or what's left in will hurt every time you move your hand." She passed a blue glowing hand over his palm, checking it, then ran a finger over the bleeding gashes to heal them.

"I… Thank you, mistress."

"I don't want you hurt." She responded, still examining his hand. She traced a lyrium line idly, affectionately, before looking up to find the warrior staring at her. "You are entirely too useful for me to risk your health over something this stupid." She hastily added before dropping his hand as if it burned her. She yanked hurriedly at a bell chain, summoning more servants. "Stay here long enough to make sure they don't break anything else. Just stay away from the glass."

Fenris smiled slightly despite himself. Apparently even in his nightmares, some things never changed. Now to figure out how to wake her without losing himself to who he had been again… And before he ran out of time.

An even more timid version of Orana crept mouselike into the sitting room, breathing the slightest sigh of relief when she saw Fenris standing at the doorway instead of Hawke. She scurried to mop up the glass and wine, hardly daring to breathe whenever the task took her within reach of the warrior in his blood stained leathers. Once the glass and the puddles of wine were cleared from the rug, she scrubbed desperately at the blood-red stains until Fenris gently caught her wrist.

"Enough. It's as clean as it will become. Go back to your other duties before you fall behind." He remonstrated quietly, tugging her back to her feet.

"But the stains… The mistress will be so angry…" She whispered, still staring terrified at the marks on the expensive rug.

"I'll deal with the mistress, just go back to your own tasks and stay out of her sight for a bit." He laid a reassuring hand over her shoulder for a moment as she gathered up her rags and bucket, and watched her scurry back off down the hall. He looked back at the ruined wool, wincing before he took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he had to do.

This was his own nightmare, built from deep-seated fears of what his gentle healer might be capable of, might have become if her life had gone differently. The fastest way to bring them out of this would be to do something that would force the dichotomy between the piece of his beloved and the seeming of a spoiled magister dredged from the depths of his own mind. None of the ideas that o flickered through his mind as to how he might manage that were terribly appealing, however. Whether baiting her into true anger or conforming to the image of the loyal pet the dream expected of him; either one might prove painful, one way or another.

He wandered back into her bedroom, deep in thought, hoping for a clue to how best to wake the last fragment of his mage. Under all the magisterial trappings and extravagance, it still was very much her room. Amidst the jumble of glittering junk that covered the marble vanity counter, he could see a polished sandalwood hairbrush he had last seen on her own nightstand; engraved with her grandmother's namesake flower, it was one of the few things to have survived both the fire and the flight to the free marches. Tucked into a corner of a half open drawer was a tiny blown glass bottle of her favorite wild rose perfume, the one he had bought with wicked grace winnings when she wasn't looking and snuck unlabeled into a pile of her presents the first Satinalia after the deep roads. He had never admitted it was from him, unable to justify either the need to give a gift to the mage cheerfully trying to befriend him or the odd joy he got when he realized she had begun wearing that scent exclusively, at least when she was around him. Sitting next to the plush bed was a dog-eared, battered copy of her favorite book, a bittersweet tragic romance she had lugged out repeatedly while teaching him how to read, admitting she reread it at least once a year.

On the other side of the bed, he found an old crate filled with worn clothing in his size, a soft green leather collar also in his size, a whetstone, an old beltknife, and a broken toothed comb. Under all that, he deftly unearthed the false bottom of the box and smiled. Without bothering to replace what he had dug through, he strode back out into the hall, ready to do what he knew he had to.

The door slammed shut behind him, setting the hanging lamp to swaying. In the flickering light, the embossed leather cover of his copy of the book of Shartan gleamed, on top of a pile of scrap paper filled with practice attempts at his name in two familiar scripts.


	28. Chapter 28

An endless eternity of apologies to any of my faithful readers who haven't given up entirely. mea culpa. i will do my best not to disappear again. yes, i know i just extended and edited this chapter a bit, but this part needed to be in this chapter and not the next, which should be coming shortly, relatively speaking.

* * *

><p>She was hunched over her desk, focused grimly on the document in front of her. He carefully eased behind her chair, watching her frantic scribing for a break in her concentration. "Doesn't necessity have two c's in it?" he asked the moment such a break came, making his tone as light and innocent as he could.<p>

She startled violently, knocking over her inkstand as tiny sparks singed the parchments under her fingertips. "Fenris, don't sneak up on me like that!" she spun around, a still sparking finger pointed at him irritably. "And" she continued glancing around carefully, "for the love of all the gods and both our damned skins, your reading ability stays in our room, remember?"

"No one else is here to hear me, amica mea, fear not." He soothed, ignoring the brief flash of outrage that flickered over her features at his tone. Deliberately, he caressed her cheek, letting his markings flare against the power seething under her skin. She hissed under her breath at the contact, pulse quickening, before trying to shove him back, palms flat against his armored chest. He set his feet, bracing, and watched the rage flood into those golden eyes at his noncompliance.

"Move." She ordered flatly, and snarled when he only smiled smugly at her. "I could kill you, slave," she hissed, raising a hand that sparked with tiny lightning flares.

His hand trailed down from her cheek, wrapping loosely around her neck, brands still flaring. He let his fingertips phase just through her skin, feeling more than hearing the sudden hitch in her breathing, and pressed against her. "Then try, magister," he whispered, and let his fingers slid lower, tracing the line of her collarbone and the fastenings of her robes. Her glowing palm slapped against his cheek, and he flinched back as the lightning flashed through his skin.

He shook his head to clear the spots from his vision, and shoved her back against the desk. Livid bruises were rising on her neck, marking the trails of where he had dragged his fingers through her skin. He leaned down, brushing his lips over the marks, and felt cold metal against his neck. She held the letter-opener against his throat, eyes warily fixed one his. "Do as you will, then, my pretty little mage." He told her, tipping his neck to give her better access. The metal bit deeper into his neck, for a moment, then stopped, wavering a little when he made no attempt to evade or attack. Her eyes watched him with wary calculation for a moment longer, and warmed, as the flat of the blade slid teasingly over his skin.

"You play dangerous games, my love." She purred, even as she leaned back to give his nimble fingers better access to the buckles of her robes. The knife was set aside, freeing her hands to work at the clasp of his armor. As his breastplate was loosened and tossed aside, Fenris slid his hands under her hips, lifting her up and back, settling her onto the desk. His mage leaned languidly back across the polished wood, propping herself up on her elbows as her robes fell carelessly open, held only with a loosely pinned brooch at her throat and a thin belt just below her hips.

He stepped back for a moment, blatantly enjoying the view as he stepped out of his leggings. He pressed forward again, running an appreciative hand along her exposed side, feathering more kisses along her bruised neck, as his other hand edged across the desk, feeling for the discarded letter opener. A quick flick after his fingers found metal, and the thin blade pierced through the folds of her sleeves, pinning them to the wood of the desk. "You're mine, mage." He growled, tracing familiar scars along the lean torso. "In any dream, any place where we are together, you are mine." He pulled the green leather collar out from the pile of his armor, buckling it slowly around her throat, mindful of the bruises. A small, worried voice in the back of his mind wondered at what he was doing, but he shook himself clear of it. He pressed forward, skin sliding against skin, and brushed his teeth over her collarbone, just under the leather band. "Mine to love, mine to cherish, mine to guard against the darkness within and without …" he whispered, sliding into her. "My only and my always, my beloved Lupa. And no over clever wolf god is going to change any of that, not while I breathe."

She was moving with him, under him, breathing his name desperately. "Yours, Fenris. Always and forever, my fierce wolf knight…" She freed an arm from the tangles of her sleeve, pulled his face closer so she could kiss him properly, long fingers playing through the mess of his hair. "And you are always and impossibly mine, my only and my forever."

The hazy, dreamlike memories of being a magister faded like fog on a sunny morning, the robes and rooms vanishing with them. The collar and the tangle holding her arm to the slick surface of the desk lasted longest, as fresh, still raw-edged memories of Templars and torment rose, leaving her fighting panic even as she clung to the familiar comfort of the face before hers. The wood under her shifted into the malleable softness of unformed fade surfaces, as the leather and silk that held her faded away.

Cold metal bumped into her calf, and she stiffened, whimpering and pulling back. An alien thread of worry coiled through the back of her mind, and the skin against hers- Fenris, she forced herself to remember, her Fenris- moved away, shifting just clear of her huddled form. Scarred fingers brushed tentatively, over her knuckles, barely touching, trying to reassure. "Lupa?" A question, both hopeful and hesitant in a roughened voice.

"Hurts…" she felt shredded, raw edged and broken, every nerve screaming at her despite the intact appearance of her skin. "I feel like…."

"Like a collection of broken pieces thrown into a pile?" An entirely too familiar voice remarked, and Fenris put himself protectively between her and the smirking trickster. "That is essentially what you are right now, little mage. He's managed to win my wager quite handily, though I wonder if he is willing to take the final step."

"Enough riddles. You said you would fix her if I completed your ridiculous test." Fenris snarled, cradling the whimpering huddle of mage.

"And you will never truly be apart again, I said. There isn't enough of her soul left at the moment to keep her sane anywhere but the beyond. Even here, you can see the damage. I told you there wouldn't be before. There is a way to restore her, but it depends on you, my delectable little morsel." Claws settled against his shoulder, a whisper of clicking bone beads sounding just behind his head. "Allow me to take enough of your soul to patch hers back together, and you will have all you thought I promised."

"I was willing to risk all of my soul to find her, as she was to save me. Why would I begrudge her the few scraps of mine to save her now?"

"So you agree to this, of your own free will?" A claw tipped finger ran along the marks on his neck. "We have a deal then?"

"Yes. We have a deal. Now fix her, damn you!"

"Oh good. By the way there might be a few side effects. And this is going to hurt." The claws dug into his skin, and sharpened fangs sliced across the back of his neck.

* * *

><p>so... review. tell me to get my butt to work on the next chapter. tell me how horrible i am to have left you waiting so very long. Tell me what you think of the third witcher game coming out for the ps4. explain to me the difference between a touchdown and a field goal. (i have serious confusion on that) only please,please review. remember, even if it sucks, it can't get better unless you tell me what's wrong.<p> 


End file.
